Arranged Marriage To An Egotistic Vampire... But Which One?? (Book 2)

The Truth Is Scarier When It's About Ourselves...

(ROSE’S POV)

We pulled up outside of a little town house that was extremely quaint and lovely to look out. I stared at it as Dimka helped me off of the bike, who could possibly own such a lovely little- 

“Welcome to my home.” Dimka grinned cutting off my thoughts like he had read them as clear as day. I followed him to the door and stared at his back in suspicion. 

“So do you fetch all your pretty flings here? I’m surprised any of them would be willing to leave this beautiful home.” Had his shoulders stiffened a bit?

“No. No one comes here apart from my friends which, of tonight, makes all of two people.” I smiled at being classed as his friend but couldn't understand what was so precious about a house until we walked inside and it all became clear.

“It’s your haven.” I breathed out as I looked around at all the beautiful furniture and the beautiful artworks on the wall. None of the inside of Dimka’s house fit in with the rocker image he was going for but all of it fit in with Dimka’s personality and shone in every piece of art. I walked to one extraordinary piece that caught my attention immediately, one that I couldn’t seem to take my eyes from. It was a painting of a woman dressed in compete black on a motorbike racing away so all you could see was the slender back of her. The bike was equally as dark but stood out like a beacon and the surrounding scenery created a feeling like you were moving with her, a feeling of escaping whatever followed her. “It’s amazing.” I turned to Dimka who was watching me closely now. “Who’s the artist?”

I tried to stay focussed on Dimka but the painting kept drawing my gaze away from him. “I am.” That drew my attention straight back to Dimka and kept my attention.

“You are? This is amazing! You have such talents! Are you an artist by profession?” I added realising that I’d only presumed that he didn’t do this for a living when in reality I knew very little about him, including his occupation.

He chuckled. “No, I’m a mercenary of sorts. Painting is more like a hobby that keeps me sane when I’m here alone doing nothing.”

I took a step away from him. “A mercenary?” He’d said it like it was no big deal!

“Of sorts.” He amended and waved his hands at me retreating back another step.

“That really isn’t necessary and entirely annoying when I know that in your heart you aren’t scared of me and know I would never hurt you.” Damn it he was right! I took a step forward and cross my arms over my chest. “I kill for money but I only kill bad guys, so I’m sort of like an assassin but my paycheck is a lot more than most assassins because there is no middle man stealing half of it.” When he said it like that he made it sound reasonable and I imagined him handing out a business card or flier to encourage me to order him like a christmas present out of a catalogue.

I stared into his eyes to try and understand him a bit better and saw the same as everyone else saw light brown eyes that were quite captivating but otherwise normal, until a hint of blue surfaced and swirled around before disappearing again. There was something he wasn’t telling me, but I’d let it go... for now.