Lovely: A Dark Romance

By D.C Anslem

Obsession:
Lance Deacon, a wealthy artist has lived, loved and for the last eight years of his life, killed. When he returns home for what he hopes would be a brief visit he ends up at a party where he finds something he never thought he would. He finds perfection, he finds her...
Perfection: Faye Mallory, a struggling therapist believes she is done with her past but her past is in no way done with her. When she gets invited to a masked charity event her simple, little world is turned upside down. What she had hoped would be an escape from a frustrating job may very well be her undoing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.C Anslem
• Release date: Oct 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005848996

Book preview

LOVELY

A Dark Romance.

D.C ANSLEM

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Dedication.

This book is dedicated to God.

Contents

No table of contents entries found.

Contents.

Prologue.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Ten.

Chapter Eleven.

Chapter Twelve.

Chapter Thirteen.

Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Seventeen.

Chapter Eighteen.

Chapter Nineteen.

Chapter Twenty.

Chapter Twenty-One.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

Chapter Twenty-Four.

Epilogue.

Prologue.

Applegate.

7 December 2000.

  After a three-hour session with five-year-old Lance Deacon it has become clear to me that he suffers from an extreme case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

  In all my years of experience I have never come across a case as severe as this and for it to be evident in a child of his age worries me immensely. I fear that his grandparents are not going to be up to the task of raising him.

  I know as a phycologist I am supposed to help my patients, to give them some form of reassurance or at least a little hope but with a case like Lance's one thing is certain, he will never be normal.

  A case like his likens to a scale, it could tip in one of two directions. If he ever gets better my guess is it will happen slowly but it will be effective enough to make it possible for him to live a somewhat normal life, but if the scale tips the other way.... I don't even want to consider the implications.

    Though a child his response to imperfection is catastrophic and that makes me wonder what would become of him when he gets older, when he realizes that ours is a world overrun with imperfection.

  I only hope I can help him.

From the notes of Martha Allen.

Child phycologist.

Chapter One.

Yankee Springs, Michigan.

12 May 2019.

  Wow, nice place, Jane said looking around the massive space that was Lance's hotel room.

  Jane was a brunette and a rather cheerful one, she had brown eyes and as far as faces go she had a beautiful one but Lance couldn't care less about beauty. She had the qualities he needed and though she wasn't exactly what he wanted she was a worthy surrogate.

  She couldn't be perfect, he knew that, none of them could be. If they could she wouldn't be the sixth in Michigan.

  As soon as Lance got into town he had looked for the most expensive and prestigious hotel he could find and he couldn't be happier with what he'd found. The living-room in his suit wasn't your average hotel living-room, far from it.

  There was an Egyptian rug and a couch behind a fireplace, an actual fireplace which was the only source of light in the massive room. Well that and a very dim light in the wine cellar at the other end of the room. Past the wine cellar was a corridor which led to two rooms, both with king sized beds, a kitchen and a bathroom.

  Thanks, he said with a smile as he took her coat and turned to hang it up on the coat rack next to the door.

  You're welcome, she said.

  Can I offer you a drink? he said with a smile that he had learned women found enchanting.     

  Sure, I'd love a drink, she said closing the distance between them. She reached for one of the buttons on his plain black sleeve that like everything else he had on was designer and said, And maybe after the drink we can ….

  we can... he said his voice low and thick with encouragement.

  She shrugged and toyed with the buttons on his shirt a little longer before saying, l doesn’t know, what do you want to do?

  He caught the wondering hand and said with a smirk, If that's the case I think I'd better get the drink quick then.

  She chuckled. Yeah, you should.

  I'll be right back, he said as he walked to the wine cellar.

  She nodded and sat on a couch that was behind her and said, What did you say you did for a living.

  He returned with two glasses and handed one to her before sitting next to her on the couch. I'm an artist.

  Hmm, that's good, she said after drinking from the glass in her hands. So, an artist, are you going to make a portrait of me tonight?

  He grinned. Yeah. He looked at her and said, In fact that's the only reason I brought you here. 

  Really? she said crossing her legs and leaning towards him.

  Yeah, he said then looked at the fireplace. Jane watched as his smile vanished and his expression turned serious. But I'm not really sure you'll like the portrait I have in mind for you.

  This time her smile was unsure. Why not?

  Without taking his attention away from the fireplace he said bluntly, The truth is it doesn't really matter if you like it or not, you don't really have a choice in the matter.   

  What do you mean? she said taking another sip of the wine that had a taste that she was having a hard time identifying.

  He looked at her and shook his head then said, Because by the time I'm done painting—he shrugged —you would be dead.

  That made her choke a little on the wine she was about to swallow. When she finally stopped wheezing, with her hand on her chest she said, What? When he didn't say anything she added, ls that supposed to be a joke or something?

  When he remained silent she put the glass on the table in front of her and stood up. You know what? I think it'll be better for me to just leave, I don't.... She stopped and put her hand on her forehead and said weakly, l, I feel a little light headed.

  She sat back down and looked at him. What?... did.... did you put something in my drink?

  Lance remained silent as she fell to the floor and after one more sip of wine he dropped his glass on the table and carried her in his arms to one of the bedrooms and dropped her carefully on the bed.

  He took a step back, knelt on the floor and reached for the cardboard box that he had kept under the bed. He took the top off and kept it soundlessly on the floor before taking out a small bottle of red paint, a paintbrush, a rope and a knife.

###

Applegate, Michigan.

15 May 2019.

  So how did you sleep last night? Faye asked turning on the small recorder on the mahogany table which separated her couch from Mr. Steve's in the dimly lit room that was her office.

  After taking a draw from the cigar in his slightly calloused hand Mr. Steve said, Hmm?

  Faye fought the urge to fan the pungent smell of smoke away from her face with her hands because she knew better. She knew good and well that she had to hide her discomfort if she ever wanted a high-class patient again and she was desperately in need of them.

  Though it was within her rights, Faye knew that if she complained about him smoking in her office he might take it the wrong way and be offended and that was a risk she wasn't willing to take.

  She had found out that her mother was sick about a month ago and since then they had seen physician after physician and tried drug after drug but lung cancer was proving to be a formidable opponent. One of the doctors who'd treated her mother had recently told them about a new treatment which Faye had to admit was helping her mom.

  Faye remembered when the sickness had first started, then her mother never ate and was always so weak. Faye had been terrified every single time her mother fell asleep and so she had started sleeping in her room, if you can call waking up every two hours to check on her sleeping.

  But now, finally she was getting a little better, she had started acting like her old self again and Faye couldn't be happier.

  She didn't know much about the new treatment but one thing she did know was that it was expensive. That was the reason why she would take any foul habit Mr. Steve had, she had to, even if it meant somehow contacting the same illness that presently plagued her mother.

  So even as her eyes started to tingle she put her pen to her notepad and said as she forced a smile, l asked you how you slept.

Mr. Steve shrugged and said, Same as always.

  At the age of sixty-seven Faye had to admit that Mr. Steve Johnson looked good for his age, the bald spot on his head and the gray hair surrounding it and on his neatly trimmed beard were the only things that gave away his age.

  As far as Faye knew he ate healthy and exercised frequently, and financially he was doing more than well. He had more cars than she believed anyone should and houses in cities that she knew fully well he couldn't pronounce.

  Yet his accomplishments weren’t the most interesting part of his life, no, the most interesting part of his life was the marital part.

  He was married to a famous fashion designer who was the mother to his three kids and from what little he had told her he loved his kids, it was his wife he couldn't stand.

  She had come to understand that he was willing to do literally anything to stay away from her including paying big bucks for a therapy session where no therapy was being done.

  She had to hand it to him though, at twenty-three she knew that most men who found themselves in marriages they didn't want to be in end up feeling trapped and resort to being unfaithful to their spouses but not that was not the case of Mr. Steve Johnson.

  He chose to remain faithful to his wife which Faye had to admit that meant he had respect for her and though she completely abhorred the thought of being in a loveless marriage she would most definitely prefer her husband to spend money on fake therapy sessions that on another woman.

  Okay, Faye said nodding. Well maybe we can...

  Excuse me for a minute, Mr. Steve said reaching into the pocket of the well-tailored suit he had on to take the call that had interrupted Faye.

  Okay I'm on my way. Mr. Steve ended the call and said as he stood up, Sorry but I need to go, business.

  Faye stood up and smiled. Of course.

  I'll send you the cheque for the session. And with that he walked out.

  Faye sank back to the couch, turned off the recorder and sighed. She was frustrated. Yes, she needed the money but she also wanted to help people, people with actual problems. Mr. Steve Johnson had to be the best of all her patients.

  You wouldn't believe how many people believe they had psychological problems, it almost seemed like they wanted to have them, some of them had come to her with problems that were just plain stupid.

  One of her so-called patients, Mr. Simmons, had complained that after eating in the afternoon he would still feel hungry before evening, another had come to her saying her husband works too much, like there was anything Faye could do about that.

  But the worst had to be Zach Meyers, a college student and the son of a rich artist who kept coming up with