Chapter 43 – Jealous Rage
The studio lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glare on the perfectly staged set of the Sunset Challenge. Contestants bustled around, makeup artists touched up faces, producers murmured in clipped tones, and cameras were strategically positioned to catch every reaction. It should have been just another day in the chaos of reality television—but for Alexis, it was quickly becoming a personal battlefield.
She had been walking past the lounge area, sipping her water and trying to calm the jittery mix of nerves and adrenaline in her chest, when she saw him. Dante. Standing there, laughing with one of the newer contestants—a blonde with a wide, confident smile and a laugh that could turn heads. Alexis froze mid-step, a sudden tightening in her chest so sharp it felt like someone had shoved a fist inside her ribcage.
No. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to care.
But she did.
Her stomach twisted as she watched him lean slightly closer to the girl, his arm brushing lightly against hers, and the casual ease in his body language ignited something in Alexis that was equal parts fury and desire. She had known that jealousy would come, she had expected some flicker of possessiveness—but she hadn't expected it to hit her like a punch to the gut, leaving her breathless and dizzy.
The words she had rehearsed, the internal pep talks about professionalism and emotional control, melted instantly. "She's just a contestant," she muttered to herself. "Nothing real. It's all a show. Just a show."
But even as she said it, her heart betrayed her, pounding against her ribs as if it were trying to escape.
Determined not to be seen, she stepped closer, planning to discreetly intervene in whatever tiny conversation was unfolding. But the universe had other ideas. Just as she opened her mouth, the blonde tilted her head, laughing brightly, and Dante's hand brushed hers—not a flirtatious gesture, not intentionally, but enough to make Alexis's stomach plummet.
"You okay?" Dante asked, turning slightly at the sound of her voice, but not fully realizing the storm in her eyes.
"I'm fine," she replied, too sharply. Her voice carried more venom than she intended, and both of them caught it. She hated herself instantly.
"Fine?" His eyebrows drew together. "You don't sound fine."
"I said I'm fine," Alexis repeated, a little louder, a little harder. She forced herself to keep her gaze from straying to the blonde's laughing face again, but it was already too late—her jealousy was public, undeniable.
The tension was thick, palpable. Around them, the casual chatter of the crew seemed to fade, leaving only the sharp, unspoken energy between them. Dante's eyes, normally warm and teasing, darkened slightly with confusion and concern. He didn't know whether she was angry at him, at the blonde, or at herself—and in truth, it was all of the above.
"You know," he said carefully, stepping slightly closer, "you don't have to do this… whatever this is."
Alexis's breath hitched. "Do what?" she asked, though the words came out clipped and shaky. She wanted him to answer, but she also didn't want him to.
"This. Act like it doesn't bother you." His voice was low, intimate, edged with frustration. "Like it doesn't sting when you see me laughing with someone else."
Her stomach lurched. She hadn't meant to give herself away—not like this—but the truth was impossible to hide. The jealousy, the ache, the unexpected surge of protectiveness she felt toward him—it all spilled into the air, suffocating in its intensity.
"I… I don't know what you're talking about," she said, though her eyes betrayed her. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, the pulse in her throat, the tremor in her hands.
He took a step closer, reducing the space between them until it was almost unbearable. "Alexis…" His voice dropped even lower, commanding attention. "You're lying to yourself. And to me. I see it. I see you. Don't."
Her defenses, painstakingly built over weeks of emotional battles, crumbled. She wanted to retreat, to run away, to hide behind sarcasm or a clever quip—but instead, she found herself gripping the edge of the table, leaning slightly forward, heart hammering. "I… I can't help it," she admitted, the words finally trembling out into the open. "I hate that it bothers me. I hate that I care. But I do. And it's… it's stupid because I know—"
"You know what?" His hand hovered near hers, as if reaching out but unsure if he was welcome.
"That it's all a game. That none of this is real," she whispered, voice cracking with vulnerability. "And yet… it feels so real."
Dante's expression softened, the protective edge replaced by tenderness and something deeper, something that mirrored her own turbulent emotions. "I get it," he said quietly. "I feel it too."
Alexis blinked, shocked by the admission. Her throat tightened, her heart lurching. She wanted to punch him, to shout at him for making her feel exposed and alive all at once, but instead, she swallowed and let the words settle between them like a fragile bridge over a stormy river.
And then the blonde, oblivious to the tension she had sparked, clapped her hands. "I'll let you two have your… uh… moment," she said, smirking before backing away.
Alexis exhaled shakily, letting the adrenaline ebb slightly, though the flutter in her chest refused to subside. She turned back to Dante, meeting his gaze, and found herself unable to look away. For the first time in days, weeks even, the chaos of the show didn't matter. It was just them—raw, vulnerable, and impossible to ignore.
"You're impossible," she muttered, though there was no bite in her tone. Only heat, confusion, and a longing she could barely comprehend.
"I could say the same about you," he replied, a teasing lilt creeping back into his voice despite the intensity. "But somehow, I think we'd make an excellent team. Even if the world is trying to tear us apart."
She laughed, softly, a fragile, trembling sound. "Team chaos," she quipped, though her lips curved with genuine amusement.
"Team chaos," he repeated, the words lingering between them, heavy with unspoken promises and dangerous potential.
But the moment didn't last. From the corner of her eye, Alexis spotted Vanessa slipping through the crowd, her expression sly and calculating. She had been watching, waiting, and now she had the perfect opening to manipulate the narrative, to plant seeds of jealousy and distrust, to turn every spark between Alexis and Dante into fodder for drama.
Alexis stiffened. The warmth she felt with Dante, the fragile intimacy, suddenly felt exposed. Vulnerable. Dangerous.
Dante must have sensed it too, because he glanced in Vanessa's direction, narrowing his eyes. "Ignore her," he said, his tone sharp but protective. "This is about us. Not her."
Alexis swallowed, nodding, though the pit of anxiety in her stomach deepened. She realized then that their relationship—whatever it was becoming—was under constant siege. From rivals, from producers, from the very nature of the show itself. Every heartbeat, every glance, every subtle brush of hands could be twisted into a scandal or a storyline designed to humiliate or manipulate.
And yet, even in the midst of the chaos, she felt something powerful: a spark of defiance, a glimmer of hope, a fierce determination to hold onto what was real, what was theirs.
Dante leaned closer, voice dropping to a near whisper. "We'll get through this. Together."
Alexis's heart lurched again, the words embedding themselves deep within her. She knew the battles weren't over. That Vanessa wouldn't stop scheming, that the cameras would never sleep, that jealousy and tension would continue to claw at the edges of their fragile connection.
But for the first time in weeks, she allowed herself a small, dangerous thought: maybe… just maybe, they could survive the chaos. Maybe they could survive it together.
And with that thought, her pulse quickened, her chest tightened, and her resolve solidified.
Whatever came next—whatever manipulations, rumors, and jealous schemes awaited—Alexis knew one thing with absolute certainty: she wasn't letting Dante go. Not again.
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