HIS WILDFIRE

Grandee & Jaime

"Grandee", that is my name. It was a Spanish title given to a person of the highest rank and eminence, pronounced as /grandi/. Names really do have impact, and so did mine.

I feared failure so much that I always did my best to excel in my field. Often, I was on top of whatever I ventured into—be it academics or any other activity—and that gained me some fame in high school and college. Despite my fragile looks, I was never abused, bullied, or offended. I emanated an energy that drove away bad intentions. I was just different.

Suzzy describes me as a nerdy but fiercely determined guy with a polluted mind.

He had asked me on another date. I didn't snub his proposal earlier, but it seemed we were a thing now even though I hadn't given a solid reply. We had grown so fond of each other over texts and calls that everything was starting to sit right.

It was a date, but this time in his house. He had dismissed all his servants to spare the whole house for just the two of us. I followed the directions he sent me carefully. It was quite easy to track along.

I arrived at a huge black gate, about three times my height. At the gate, I took out my phone and went to my recent contacts. I tapped on Mr. Moore 🙃. He picked up very quickly.

"Hi baby!" he said in a deep, sleepy tone. "I can see you... looking all cute and mine."

I was in light blue baggy jeans and a white fitting top, with my black cross bag hanging on my left shoulder. I had on a pair of platform shoes that were almost covered by my jeans, with a few bangles and beads on my wrist. Looking carefully, I realized there was an inconspicuous camera fixed at the gate. Smiling, I passed my hand over my dark curly hair.

"I'll be right there to get you," he assured.

I stood there for not more than five minutes before he opened the gate with a wide smile. As usual, he looked like a god. He was in sweatpants and a black compression shirt. I kept stealing glances down to see his print, but I couldn't catch it since I didn't want him to notice. Quietly, I wondered how I had attracted him at all—he was just... too much.

"Are you going to have me carry you in?" he teased, poking my nose slightly.

I shook my head sheepishly and he let me in.

Inside, my eyes knew no rest. I kept turning and tilting, observing the neat and luxurious environment. The whole place was filled with flowering plants, mostly bougainvillea. The floors were laid with limestone cobbles which gave the place a royal look, and the house was painted white and gold.

At the center of the big compound was a water fountain and a monument of a strong man, clad only in a cloth at his waist, holding an almost naked woman and trying to cover her.

"What does this suggest?" I asked curiously, pointing at the monument.

While I gazed at the compound, Mr. Moore kept staring at me, smiling as though I were the most beautiful painting he had ever seen. He gently took my hand as we walked into the house.

"It denotes protection and safety. It indicates how the family is willing to protect and assist anyone who falls vulnerable in our arms," he explained.

"Oh right! So the man represents the Moore family?" I asked.

"Exactly!" he replied.

We walked past the huge pillars before the large Italian door that opened into the hall. He held my waist delicately and ushered me in. My eyes remained locked on the crystal chandelier. The opal tiles were magical, and the pearl-white furniture complemented them perfectly.

"You live in heaven," I whispered.

He chuckled, brushing it off.

"I was trying to prepare something nice for you before you called," Mr. Moore disclosed.

I followed him closely to the vast kitchen. The aroma filled the air. Two pots simmered on the electric burner.

"What's cooking?" I asked.

He turned back, looked me up and down, and walked toward me slowly. I kept moving backward until I was trapped between him and the white countertop. Gently, he lifted me up to sit on the counter, his eyes locked on mine with unconcealed desire.

My lips parted slightly. With one hand gripping my waist and the other at the back of my neck, he kissed me deeply.

Oh my God—I just had my first kiss! I definitely had to tell Suzzy about this.

He stopped to study my face, and when he realized I had given in, he continued. We kissed more deeply. It felt so good. His hands caressed my back and ran through my curly hair. The sweetness became overwhelming, and I gently pushed him back to catch my breath.

I needed a reason for pulling away so he wouldn't think I didn't enjoy it.

"Uhh... umm, the food is burning," I blurted, quickly adjusting my crumpled shirt.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed.

It wasn't burnt yet, but it was close. He stirred the sauce rapidly and pulled the chicken out of the oil. Then he came back to me. My chest pounded wildly as he approached. He grabbed my chin and raised my head.

He gave me a soft kiss on the lips. "You're really tempting me. I want to do all the bad things in the world to you." His voice was serious. "Go sit comfortably at the dining table before it happens."

When he let go, I bit my lips softly and obeyed, trembling slightly.

He soon came out carrying a huge tray with bowls of food. I couldn't help staring at his body and biceps as he approached. When I tried to rise to help him, he shook his head.

"You're my beautiful guest," he said.

He dropped the tray and carefully arranged the bowls on the table: pasta, rice, meat sauce, fried chicken, and mixed vegetables. The aroma was irresistible. He returned with two bottles of water, fruit juice, and glasses.

"I feel honored to have such a beautiful being seated at my table," he flirted.

I laughed shyly. He dished some rice and meat sauce onto my plate, but I insisted on serving myself.

"As you wish, baby," he replied. I could tell he rarely did this himself and needed the help.

"This is extremely tasty!" I exclaimed.

He looked at me with doubtful eyes, as though searching for lies.

"Mr. Moore, I'm being genuine, I promise," I assured.

"I trust you, my darling," he said, and I felt flattered.

"Grandee, just call me by my first name, Jaime—or even 'my king.' You being formal is killing me," he said playfully. I nodded.

He took my phone from across the table and changed his contact from Mr. Moore 🙃 to My King ❤️. Then he showed me how he had saved mine: Askim ❤️💍, which he explained meant my love in Turkish.

We talked about our families as we ate, but I couldn't hold back a burning question.

"Do you plan on having kids?" I asked.

He dropped his cutlery and looked straight into my eyes.

"You'll bear my kids," he said boastfully. "Just three of them."