Chapter 31 – Public Embarrassment
The sun had barely risen over the mansion when Alexis realized that today's challenge wasn't going to go smoothly. Not that any day on the show had gone smoothly, but there was a particular dread that twisted in her stomach the moment the producers explained the parameters. It was a live-feed audience challenge—every move would be broadcast to thousands of viewers, and the theme? "Romantic Roleplay: Perfect Date Scenario."
Alexis groaned internally. She had been practicing sabotage in private, testing the lines, the timing, the gestures meant to push other contestants off balance. But live? With cameras catching every misstep, every falter, every slip? That was a different kind of terrifying.
She glanced toward the assembled contestants, all lined up in the ornate ballroom, waiting for the producers to cue them. Some looked excited, some terrified, and a few looked as if they'd been plotting their next sabotage attack for weeks. Vanessa, of course, was radiant in her calculated confidence, already whispering to her allies with a sly smirk that made Alexis want to pull her hair out.
And then there was him. Dante.
He stood across the room, tall, calm, with that easy charm that made him look like he was about to step out of a magazine ad instead of a chaotic reality-show challenge. Alexis's chest clenched the instant she caught his gaze. He wasn't looking at her… not yet. He was watching the producers give final instructions, nodding, listening, seemingly unshakable. But the minute he turned his eyes toward her—just for a heartbeat—her stomach twisted in a familiar, devastating way.
Why does he still have this effect on me? she thought bitterly. I'm supposed to be the manipulator here. I'm supposed to be untouchable, cold, untangled. Not… this.
Producers called everyone to their starting positions, and Alexis felt herself sinking into her rehearsed persona—the villainess, the "pick-me" girl who could sow chaos with a well-timed quip or flirty comment. She clenched her fists behind her back to steady herself, letting the familiar thrill of mischief rush through her veins. She was ready. Or she thought she was.
The challenge began innocuously enough. The other contestants paired off for staged dates, complete with exaggerated romantic gestures, overly sweet dialogue, and ridiculous props. Alexis had been paired with a contestant she barely knew, a lanky guy with an unfortunately nervous smile, and she had every intention of inserting herself into his carefully scripted romance… until she realized, to her horror, that the cameras were angled in such a way that every movement, every stumble, every sarcastic aside would be amplified.
It started harmlessly. She leaned in just slightly during a staged toast, letting her hair brush against her partner's shoulder, a tiny flick meant to disrupt his composure. He flinched, eyes wide, and Alexis suppressed a victorious smile.
And then the first disaster hit.
Her partner, distracted by the attention of the cameras—and possibly by the way Alexis had so effortlessly invaded his personal space—misjudged a step while trying to kneel for a mock proposal. He tripped. In the process, he knocked over the dessert tower, sending chocolate mousse flying like tiny, sticky meteors across the polished ballroom floor.
Alexis's eyes went wide. "Oh no," she muttered under her breath, but the words were drowned out by gasps from the other contestants and the live-feed audience, whose reactions were already scrolling in real time across social media.
She froze, heart hammering. She had meant to disrupt subtly, maybe embarrass someone mildly, not create a full-blown catastrophe. Her mind raced, searching for a recovery strategy, but before she could intervene, another contestant—a rival she had hoped to outmaneuver—stepped in to blame her. "Seriously, Alexis? That's your move?" she hissed, exaggeratedly glaring at the cameras as if Alexis were the villain of every viewer's dreams.
Panic set in. Her carefully constructed image of cunning control crumbled as her ex—Dante—stepped forward like a knight in designer armor. He scooped up the errant dessert, calming the chaos with a few crisp words and a steadying hand on Alexis's elbow. "It's okay," he murmured, just low enough for her to hear over the audience gasp. "We've got this. Don't panic."
Alexis's cheeks heated, not just from the embarrassment, but from the warmth of his touch. Her stomach fluttered as the words washed over her. Relief. She didn't want to admit it, but she felt a surge of gratitude—no, something deeper—every time he was near.
The producers were whispering into earpieces, frantically trying to redirect the flow of the challenge while Alexis struggled to regain composure. Her flubbed sabotage had created the perfect storm of chaos: the cameras loved it, social media was already trending, and Vanessa was clearly reveling in her misery, eyes alight with cruel delight.
Alexis realized, mid-flustered apology, that Dante wasn't just calming her partner—he was protecting her, shielding her from the worst of the scrutiny. Every subtle gesture, every protective nudge, made her heart pound in a way she hadn't felt in weeks. She wanted to push him away, to focus on regaining control of the game, but she couldn't. He had this gravity about him, this effortless charm mixed with real concern, and it left her breathless.
As the challenge continued, Alexis's panic turned into reluctant amusement. Her sabotage might have failed spectacularly, but watching Dante navigate the chaos with a sly grin, occasionally meeting her eyes with a teasing raise of his eyebrow, was a kind of private victory she couldn't deny. He wasn't just rescuing her; he was turning the public embarrassment into a moment of intimacy only she could appreciate.
By the midpoint of the challenge, Vanessa had started to maneuver for advantage, whispering strategies to her allies, hoping to exploit the situation. Alexis noticed the subtle side-eye glances, the calculated nudges toward Dante, as if to draw his attention away from her. A flicker of jealousy flared, hot and sudden. Doesn't she know he's mine? Or at least… should be? she thought bitterly.
Dante, of course, noticed. In the middle of orchestrating a recovery from her disastrous sabotage, he leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "Relax. You're not alone."
Alexis shivered, her internal walls cracking just slightly. Her mind screamed, Focus! Control! You're on camera! Don't melt! but her body and heart had other ideas.
The challenge ended with the contestants clapping awkwardly, the production crew hurriedly redirecting camera angles, and Vanessa smirking as she whispered something to a producer. Alexis felt like she had survived a war—not with bullets, but with chocolate mousse and social humiliation.
Backstage, away from the live feed but still feeling the lingering stares of the other contestants, Alexis finally allowed herself to breathe. Dante followed, standing close enough that their shoulders brushed. She wanted to lean into him, to let herself feel the warmth and reassurance, but she hesitated. Pride, embarrassment, and lingering fear tangled in a mess of emotions.
"You okay?" Dante asked softly, watching her carefully.
She laughed, shaky but genuine, shaking her head. "No. Not really. But… better. Because you're here."
He smiled, a slow, knowing curl of his lips, and in that moment, Alexis realized something she couldn't deny: every humiliation, every sabotage failure, every awkward mishap—it didn't matter as long as he was there. He had been her anchor, her shield, her constant even in the chaos of this absurd game.
"And you," she said, a teasing glint returning to her eyes, "have this ridiculous ability to make me feel calm even when my world is literally exploding in chocolate."
He chuckled, lifting his hand to lightly brush a stray strand of hair from her face. "Well, someone has to keep the chaos manageable. I'm glad it's me."
Her heart beat faster, in rhythm with the chaotic energy that surrounded them. In that moment, under the soft glow of backstage lights, amidst the embarrassment, the laughter, and the absurdity, Alexis felt something undeniable. Sparks were flying, and it wasn't just from the cameras.
The rival contestants observed from afar, whispering to one another, their jealousy palpable as they noted the subtle closeness, the quiet, private connection blossoming amid the chaos. Vanessa's smile had turned calculating, plotting her next move, but for Alexis, the world had narrowed to this one steady presence beside her.
And for the first time since the cameras had started rolling, Alexis allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn't have to be perfect, didn't have to control every narrative, didn't have to fight alone. Because he was there, and that was enough—for now.
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