Chapter 3;
klaus' pov;
"What is this all about, Klaus?" she questioned me looking over at the horse-drawn-carriage. I smiled at her, "I just wanted to make tonight special."
Special in my eyes was taking her to Paris on this beautiful, clear night, but I knew she wouldn't completely like the idea so quick. Caroline was old fashioned when it came to love, she wanted the real thing, and nothing less.
I began to start the journey to where I wanted to take Caroline. I kept mum, knowing my ideas of fun would not allow her to think the way I wanted her to be thinking tonight.
She glanced over at me, as I opened the door to the carriage. The look on Caroline's face was priceless. Her hair was curled from the sides.
I could tell she was surprised. Me being the good guy? Say it isn't so. The original ripper of the 1800s-having a heart.
But right now, in this moment; I would do anything to be that way for Caroline. I had to earn everything in Caroline for her to trust me. In the back of my head, I was unsure about changing.
I wondered what she thought of me. I knew words probably in her vocabulary: demon, destruction, and monster.
Suddenly in my mind, I wanted it to all go away-start over fresh.
Like she had just met me, for the very first time.
Caroline's POV;
It was like he was dressed up to go to a ritzy ball or wedding. His bow-tie around his neck was white to match with the button down shirt underneath his black jacket to go with the rest of his suit.
"Where are we going, Klaus?" I asked patiently. He looked over, and cracked another smile. "I wanted to show you an art museum at it's best," he smiled allowing the horses to turn into the parking lot of the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts.
The museum was nestled in the middle of Richmond, Virginia. It was lit up nicely.
I watched him carefully get out of the buggy. He sprinted to the other side of the buggy, where I was seated and casually stood there while extending his hand to help me out.
"You look ravishing," he grinned and continued; still smiling like an idiot. I let out a force smile. His eyes were so gentle as they met mine. "Thank you, Klaus."
I was surprised at the next thing that came out of his mouth. "You're right, Caroline," he whispered to me as we walked toward the entrance of the museum. I lifted my head up to focus on looking into his eyes.
"What's that?" I replied quietly. "You know me a little too well then you should, Miss Forbes," Klaus noted. I cracked a smile, "What did I do?"
"You knew I didn't want to let anyone in," he answered. He let it drop afterwards, opening one of the huge glass doors leading to the art museum. "Do you come here a lot?" I asked changing the subject. "Yes, I do. I appreciate the arts. It takes true passion to get through a painting."
The museum was filled with everything you could thing of, such as ancient, American, African, and even European.
Klaus continued explaining artwork one by one. We were walking so close we touched off and on.
He was so knowledgeable when it came to the arts. It was fascinating.
His voice was the softest I had ever heard the tone to be. He seemed...gentle.
He was different. It played out like a movie. He cared.
The art museum was something to talk about. It was special. The walls were lined with art of every resource. The only art I was ever exposed to was when I was required to take an art class in the sixth grade. I later found out it was full of just cheap lessons, paints, and clay.
"Come this way, love," he whispered grabbing my hand and pulling me to an unknown pathway. We appeared suddenly at a restaurant. I smiled.
There were lights lit up and the way he presented it was magical. The lighting was perfect, and we were the only ones who would be seen.
It was a little after 6:30pm, the museum would be closing in about two hours, but I couldn't help but wonder about Klaus' ambitions.
"Why me?" I suddenly asked after getting my glass of tea. "You make it so easy for me to be attracted to you," he said not even looking up from his menu-his eyes floating from page to page.
He glanced up from his menu, looking me in the eyes.
"Elena doesn't approve," I spoke up. Why did I say that? Whom does it matter to? "Do you approve?" he asked. My eyes grew big, but I felt the need to reply with a yes.
"Maybe," I whispered.
His eyebrow raised. "I can deal with that."