Chapter 18 – Rivalry Intensifies
The producers always claimed the weekly challenge was designed to "test creativity and teamwork." Personally, I thought it was more like a carefully engineered social experiment meant to wring out as much jealousy and sexual tension as possible, then package it with glitter for the viewers at home.
And apparently, this week, I was the guinea pig.
The challenge required all of us to film a faux "date night" scenario with a randomly assigned partner. The cameras rolled as we prepped, and the stage lights burned bright enough to make me feel like my skin was sizzling. I'd been holding my breath for the draw of partners, praying to every higher power available—God, the universe, the production interns—that I wouldn't end up with him.
But fate had a particularly cruel sense of humor.
Because the second the director called out the pairing, Dante Rivera was standing across from me, grinning like the devil had personally taught him how.
Except this time, before we could even step toward each other, she slid in.
Vivienne Marchand.
Tall, curvy in all the ways magazines said you should be, with a laugh that sounded like it had been imported from Paris and a way of draping herself over people like they were human furniture. She'd been circling Dante for days, and today, apparently, she decided to land.
"Guess we're on," she purred, tucking herself against his arm like she'd been born there.
For a moment, I actually forgot how to breathe. Then I remembered. And then I promptly considered using my lungs to launch myself across the stage and strangle her.
Instead, I pasted on my best "I'm completely unbothered" smile, the one I'd perfected during high school pep rallies when Dante was flirting with cheerleaders.
"Don't let me stop you," I said lightly, though my nails dug little crescents into my palm.
He glanced at me then. Not her. Me. Just for a flicker of a second. Enough to make my stomach turn traitor and flip.
And damn him, he smirked.
The cameras followed as Vivienne dragged him toward the mock "romantic dinner" set, complete with fairy lights and a fake candle. She tossed her hair, leaned in close, and laughed too loud at something he said.
My jaw ached from clenching it.
"Oh, don't worry," whispered my teammate, Lorenzo Cruz, sidling up beside me with a devilish grin. "You look so calm right now. Like a Zen master watching someone steal their car."
I shot him a look. "Remind me why I agreed to be your partner this week?"
"Because deep down you knew you needed my comedic relief," he replied, sipping an imaginary glass of wine and pretending to swoon.
I rolled my eyes, but my attention inevitably slid back to the center stage. Vivienne leaned forward, hand brushing over Dante's, fingers grazing in a way that made something in my chest snap tight.
I wanted to scream. Or flip the table. Or—better yet—march out there, grab him by the collar, and remind everyone whose lips had been the first to own that smirk.
Instead, I adjusted the prop napkin in my lap and muttered under my breath, "It's just for the cameras. Just for the damn cameras."
Except the way his shoulders shifted told me he knew. He knew I was watching.
"Cut!" The director clapped once. "Perfect chemistry, Vivienne and… ah, our leading man. Beautiful."
Vivienne preened. Dante gave the smallest of nods. And I sank further into my chair, wishing the floor would swallow me whole.
Of course, Lorenzo wouldn't let it slide. "You're glaring so hard, the fake candle almost melted," he teased, leaning closer.
"I am not glaring," I snapped.
He arched a brow. "You've got two options, chica. Either you keep pretending you're totally fine, or you admit that watching Dante play boyfriend with Vivienne is making you one jealous little jalapeño."
I wanted to deny it. Swear up and down that I didn't care. That he could flirt with Vivienne or anyone else in the room and it wouldn't touch me.
But then Dante's gaze flicked back to me—direct, deliberate—and my entire body betrayed me with a rush of heat.
Jealous little jalapeño indeed.
The break between takes should have been my safe zone. A quick sip of water, a chance to loosen my jaw, maybe even run through lines without feeling like my ribs were wrapped in barbed wire.
But Vivienne had other plans.
She strutted past me, humming, perfume trailing like smoke. She tossed me a look that could have melted plastic. "Don't worry, darling," she purred. "Some of us are just born for the spotlight."
I smiled sweetly, teeth sharp enough to cut glass. "Oh, I don't worry about you, Vivienne. I worry about the men who mistake cheap theatrics for substance."
Her eyes narrowed. "We'll see who wins in the end."
I wanted to fire back, but before I could, a low chuckle interrupted.
"Still got that bite," Dante murmured, stepping into view.
For one dangerous second, it was just us. No Vivienne. No cameras. Just him leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching me like I was the only person worth watching.
And damn it if my heart didn't betray me again.
He didn't move closer, not exactly, but there was a pull between us that hadn't dulled with time. If anything, it was sharper. Stronger.
"You jealous?" he asked quietly, voice pitched low enough that only I could hear.
The nerve. The audacity. The absolute gall of this man.
"Not even slightly," I lied through clenched teeth.
His mouth tilted, one corner pulling up in that infuriating way that made me want to kiss him and slap him in the same breath. "Good. Because you don't have to be."
Heat rushed up my neck. "I said I wasn't."
"Sure you did," he murmured, before pushing off the wall and sauntering away, leaving me standing there like I'd just lost an argument with gravity.
The next scene only made things worse.
This time, I was seated at a table across from Lorenzo, who was valiantly trying to improvise dialogue about star-crossed lovers meeting over spaghetti. Meanwhile, Dante and Vivienne were on the opposite end of the set, reenacting something that looked suspiciously like a rom-com montage.
Vivienne twirled, skirt flaring, laughter ringing out like silver bells. Dante caught her hand mid-spin, steadying her. For one split second, my stomach clenched so hard it hurt.
It's fake. It's acting. It doesn't matter.
Except it did.
I caught myself fiddling with my fork, stabbing it into the tablecloth like it had personally wronged me.
Lorenzo leaned across, voice dropping. "You're supposed to look enchanted, not like you're auditioning for a horror movie."
I blinked, then forced a smile so stiff it could've doubled as a mannequin's.
"That's better," he whispered. "Though if looks could kill, Vivienne would be six feet under right now."
"She's lucky I don't trip her during wardrobe change," I muttered.
Lorenzo grinned. "Now that's the spirit."
Hours later, when the cameras finally stopped rolling, exhaustion draped over me like a weighted blanket. But the jealousy? That simmered on.
I found myself leaning against the craft services table, nursing a lukewarm coffee, when a familiar voice drifted over my shoulder.
"You know," Dante said, low and deliberate, "if you keep glaring at her like that, the audience is going to catch on."
I froze, then slowly turned. He was too close. Always too close.
"I wasn't glaring," I said, heat creeping up my neck.
He arched a brow. "No? You practically set the stage on fire."
"That's rich, coming from you," I shot back. "You're enjoying the attention a little too much."
He studied me for a long moment, eyes narrowing slightly, and then that damn smirk returned. "So you were jealous."
"I—" My words caught. My throat tightened. "I don't get jealous."
"Liar," he whispered.
And the worst part? I couldn't even deny it.
The tension between us was thick enough to slice. Every brush of his gaze felt like static against my skin. Every accidental brush of his hand when we passed in the hall sent my stomach tumbling.
I hated it. I loved it.
And when Vivienne reappeared, cooing at him from across the room, I swore I saw his eyes linger on me just a beat too long before he turned to her.
It wasn't enough to satisfy me. But it was enough to keep me hooked.
And that, I realized with a sinking heart, was exactly what scared me most.
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