I Married A Vampire

Ivy's POV

"I can't take this anymore, Lila. Why does Father, even in his dead state, still control my life?" I asked, furiously.

My older sister, Lila, and I had just watched our late father's will video. He was laid to rest a few days ago, and we were finally able to hear his will. I am Ivy Harrington, the second and last child of Richard Harrington, a great artist and gallerist. He owned a Museum for the Arts called Harrington's Museum for the Arts, which he handed down to my elder sister Lila, along with some other assets he owned.

But for me, on the other hand, he said I would have to get married before I could hear what I had inherited from him after he said that in his will video, the lawyer took the tapes and left.

"You have to relax, Ivy. Now, you know Daddy loved you very much. Besides, you're thirty years old and you're still living the fairytale life," She said, turning to me.

"Just go home to your amazing husband and kids, Lila. You don't know anything about my relationship with Daddy," I added.

She sighed, "Ivy... how about you come back home with me today? Have fun with the kids. They miss their aunty by the way."

"Nah... don't worry about me. I'll just go back to the house I'm privileged to still live in. Thanks to Daddy and you, obviously," I laughed.

"Oh, please Ivy. I don't need that house anymore. I have a home with Charles and the kids," She turns to look at her watch, "Oh... will you look at the time? I have to head back home now. Can't afford to miss dinner again."

"I'd love to join, but I have some artwork to restore back at home," I smiled.

"Oh, okay. It's all good Ivy," She said as she kissed me on the cheeks. "See you some other time."

I watched her as she left Father's old office in the Museum while I sat there, quietly. As the building became so silent that I could hear the sound of my breathing, I decided it would be the best time to completely restore the artwork in my little workshop.

---

Walking carefully down the stairs, humming to my favorite music. I notice a human shadow figure on the wall which becomes more visible as I walk down the stairs.

"No one is supposed to be in here," I whispered to myself.

As I got closer, I saw a tall man with dark short wavy hair. His hands were behind his back as he stood by a large moody painting hung on the far wall, its dark tones and dramatic brushstrokes evoking an eerie sense of longing. It depicted a lone figure standing beneath a stormy sky, gazing against a desolate sea. Something about this painting resonated with the figure standing, and as I stepped closer, I noticed the figure drawn to the intricate details.

"Fascinating, isn't it?"

The voice of this strange man was deep and smooth, as it sent shivers down my spine. I walked even closer to see the man standing, his eyes still fixed on the painting.

As I walked to see the man, I was stunned by his beauty. He has a face that's both handsome and haunting, with sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline. But it was his eyes that held a piercing, with a depth that seemed to hold centuries of secrets.

"It is," I managed, my voice softer than I intended.

He turned to me, a small smile curving on his lips, "I often find myself wondering what the artist was feeling while creating something like this. Was it sorrow? Hope? Or perhaps both."

His words resonated with me, as I nodded my head, " Art has a way of capturing contradiction. That's what makes it powerful."

He held out a hand. "Sabastian Cain."

"Ivy Harrington," I replied, placing my hand on his. His touch was cool, but not unpleasant, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile crossed his lips.

"You must be part of the Harrington family then," He said, his tone conversational but curious. "This Museum is impressive."

"I am," I replied. "But my sister is the one who handles most of the business. I'm more behind the scenes, restoring artwork."

"An admirable skill," He said. "Breathing life into the past."

"By the way, Sabastian, you're not supposed to be in here by this time. We're closed for the day," I said glancing around the hall. "I guess my sister forgot to lock the front doors before leaving."

"Yeah... you could say that. But I was drawn by this painting, besides, the Museum is my favorite place to be," He said.

"I was heading to my workshop. I have some artwork there I'm currently restoring but I guess you can join me if you'd like," I said, a faint smile on my face.

"That would be nice. I'd love that," He said as he turned away from the painting on the wall. "After you."

I led him as we walked slowly toward my little workshop. I steal glances at him, while he's focused on the hallway. His hands are still placed behind his back as he walks with such poise that makes it intimating to walk beside him.

"Well, we're here," I said, as I opened the door to my workshop. "There's nothing much to it. It's a bit crowded for now."

"Oh... I don't mind. It's a bit cozy. I like it. May I come in?" He asked.

"Oh, where are my manners," I said as I moved out of the way, with my hands gesturing towards the workshop. "Please, come in."

"Thank you," He said as he walked inside carefully observing everything inside.

The workshop was packed with a lot of paintings and mini-statues I was restoring. My brushes and other art equipment were scattered all over the place.

"It seems like you've been here for a while now," He said.

"Yes, of course."

"Hmm... that's nice. But depressing, pardon my manners," He apologized.

"Oh no. It's cool. I mean, my sister left to go home to her family for dinner, she asked me to join her but I declined. I guess you can say that's depressing," I said, trying to force a smile.

"So, you're not married?" He asked, his tone soft but laced with curiosity.

I laughed. "Well, if it's not that obvious, I don't know what is."

"I'm sorry," He said, pacing around the room while looking at the artwork.

"You don't have to apologize," I replied. If you don't mind, I have to finish this piece. Please don't break anything. I'll be done soon."

"Of, course."

Ivy's POV

After a while of restoring artworks in my workshop, it dawned on me that I was all alone with a strange man. Sabastian stood over me the whole time, watching what I did and how I restored the paintings.

"You know, I think it's time for me to go," I sighed. "I'm completely worn out and I need to head back home now and rest now."

"Of course... A beautiful lady like yourself needs her beauty sleep," He said.

"Well, there's nothing beautiful about this lady," I said, my hands wavering over my body. "But you are right, I do need to sleep."

As I wrapped up my tools and cleared off my desk and a little space in my workshop, I looked over and Sabastian was still standing, his hands still placed behind.

"What about you?" I asked as I turned towards him.

"What about me?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"Yeah... you. When exactly will you be leaving? Cause you weren't