Chapter 37 – Trust Issues
The fluorescent lights backstage flickered as Alexis Harper paced the narrow corridor, the heels of her stilettos clicking a rapid staccato against the polished concrete floor. Her chest heaved, not from exertion, but from the whirlwind of emotions roiling inside her. Trust, she realized bitterly, was a fragile thing—easily shattered and almost impossible to rebuild once broken. And lately, it seemed like trust was the one currency she couldn't afford.
Dante Chase appeared at the far end of the hallway, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on her like a hawk circling its prey. He looked calm—too calm—yet she could see the undercurrent of tension threading through his posture. There was a storm behind those steady eyes, one that mirrored her own.
"Alexis," he started, voice low but sharp, cutting through the background hum of crew chatter. "We need to talk. Now."
She stopped pacing abruptly, twisting to face him. "Talk? Or interrogate?" Her tone was defensive, sharper than intended, but she couldn't hide the tremor in her voice.
"Don't be cute," he said, stepping closer, the faint scent of his cologne—warm, earthy, familiar—triggering a surge of heat that had nothing to do with the lights or the tension in the room. "I need to know—are you here because of us… or because of the show? Because every time I see you laughing with the cameras, sabotaging the dates, flirting—it's like I can't tell if it's real or just another performance."
Alexis felt her stomach knot, every muscle tightening. She wanted to snap back, to defend herself, but the truth—the messy, complicated truth—hung there unspoken. Part of her wanted to yell, It's both! Another part wanted to sink to the floor and cry, because the simplicity of truth was impossible in a world that demanded appearances.
"I… Dante…" she began, hesitating, words failing her. She closed her eyes, drawing in a shaky breath, trying to center herself. "You think it's just a show? That everything I do is… fake?"
"I don't think," he shot back, a flicker of hurt crossing his features. "I know I've seen you manipulate the challenges, make moves that aren't… honest. And every time, I catch myself hoping that maybe it's different with me—but I can't tell. I don't know if I can trust you right now."
Her throat tightened. Trust. The word landed heavier than she expected. It carried a weight that had been missing from her life for years, a tether to someone who knew her, who had seen her at her best and worst. And yet, it also carried the threat of loss. The last time she had let herself care so deeply, she had been left raw and broken.
"I'm not… I'm not just doing this for the cameras, Dante," she said finally, forcing the words out with deliberate care. "I… I can't explain it entirely, not without sounding like I'm trying to justify everything. But… what we have—what I feel for you—it's real. You have to believe that, even if the timing is terrible."
He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the dark waves as he exhaled heavily. "Alexis… I want to. God, I want to. But every time I see you with them—the cameras, the crew, the other contestants—it's like you're constantly performing, and I don't know where the performance ends and you begin."
Her lips parted slightly, as if to answer, but no sound came. Because the truth was, she didn't fully know either. In this game of manipulation and televised romance, reality and act blurred until distinguishing the two became almost impossible.
"I… I struggle with that too," she admitted softly. "I can't lie, Dante. Sometimes, the chaos is… thrilling. I get caught up in it. But you—you're different. When I'm with you… it's not a performance. Not when we're alone, not when it's just us. I don't know how to make you see that, without the cameras twisting it all."
He stepped closer, just a few feet away, and the air between them seemed to shimmer with tension. Every instinct screamed at her—run, protect yourself—but every fiber of her being also screamed—stay, feel, trust him.
"You think you can just say that and it fixes everything?" he asked, voice low, dangerous in its intensity. "Alexis, I don't just want words. I need to see it. I need to know it's real. That when you smile at me, it's not for ratings. That when you reach for me… it's not scripted."
Her heart pounded. The intensity in his gaze mirrored her own fear and desire, a reflection of all the tension that had been building since their reunion on this show. "I… I can't promise perfection," she whispered. "I can't promise I'll never slip, never act out for the cameras, never make mistakes. But I can promise that I'm not… not with you. Not intentionally."
He was quiet for a moment, just studying her, his eyes like sharp knives and warm flames all at once. And then, finally, he sighed, a sound that seemed to carry years of frustration and longing. "Alexis… I hate that I can't stop thinking about you. That even after everything, I still… care. Still want you."
Her breath caught, a shiver running down her spine. She took an involuntary step closer, closing some of the space between them, and their eyes locked in an unspoken battle of wills. Desire and fear danced together, dangerous and magnetic.
"And I… I feel the same," she admitted, voice barely audible over the pounding of her own heart. "I can't control it, Dante. Even when I try. I try to play the game, to protect myself… but you—you make me feel things I thought I buried long ago."
He reached out then, hand hovering near hers for a moment before brushing it gently, fingers grazing hers in the briefest touch that sent sparks shooting through her veins. "Then show me. Not just words, Alexis. Show me."
Her pulse raced. The hallway felt impossibly small, impossibly charged with energy neither of them could ignore. Rival contestants whispered in the background, scheming, watching—but in that moment, the world fell away.
"I don't know if I can… not with them watching," she murmured, uncertainty threading her tone. "They'll use it. They'll twist it."
"Then we be smart," he said, a small, wry smile tugging at his lips. "We navigate the chaos together. But we don't hide what's real. Not from each other."
She let out a shaky laugh, the first sound that had felt truly hers in hours. "You make it sound so easy."
"It's never easy with you," he countered, amusement dancing in his voice, though the fire in his eyes never wavered. "But it's worth it."
Alexis felt her chest tighten, both from the intensity of his words and the raw truth in them. This—whatever it was—was fragile, dangerous, and intoxicating all at once. Trust had always been her enemy, but maybe, just maybe, it could also be her salvation.
Dante leaned slightly closer, the faintest brush of his shoulder against hers, a subtle reassurance and a tease all at once. The tension between them was electric, unrelenting, a storm waiting to break. And as she met his gaze, her green eyes reflecting both fear and longing, she realized that nothing about this was simple—but everything about it felt inevitable.
Outside, the chaos of the reality show continued, the cameras rolling, rivals plotting, rumors spreading. But in that narrow backstage corridor, amidst the uncertainty, the gossip, and the manipulations, Alexis felt something she hadn't felt in a long time: a spark of hope.
"I trust you," she whispered finally, almost to herself.
Dante's lips twitched into a soft, reassuring smile. "Good. Because I'm not letting go. Not now, not ever."
And for the first time in weeks, Alexis Harper allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—she could survive the chaos, the rumors, the cameras, and the world… and still have him.
⸻