Hank Donner-Varian yearns for something beyond his perfect, but routine marriage. Forbidden fantasy beckons until a chance encounter with the enigmatic and devastatingly sexy Abbott Lowery turns curiosity into a dangerous obsession.
Hank’s unaware of the sinister depths beneath Lowery's facade. When Hank's flirtation spirals into nightmare, he's thrust into a world of horror orchestrated by a man who once embodied his deepest desires.
In a heart-pounding race against time, Beautiful Monster immerses readers in a gripping tale of passion, deception, and survival. Can Hank navigate the treacherous maze of obsession and deceit before it's too late? Or will the irresistible stranger prove to be Hank's downfall, plunging him into a nightmare from which escape is impossible?
When he got to the corner of Ohio and Michigan, he spied him. Just a quick glimpse, but enough to let him know that he needed to follow, even if it was into a discount store he’d never frequent on his own. But a glimpse was enough to know that this was the one -- one he could file away in his mental fantasy file, for later. And, he knew the odds were good, that this guy, with his raven black hair and blue eyes, would find Hank desirable. See, the more beautiful the man, the more worthy Hank felt by his attention.
Nothing would ever come of it, right? Hank was window shopping, browsing.
And this one, even in the briefest of glances, was a true stunner.
Hank maneuvered through the revolving doors into Nordstrom at the Michigan Avenue entrance and took the elevator up to the men’s department, following the guy. Hank drank him in: the blue-black hair, the broad shoulders and chest, tapering down to a small, firm waist. Tall. Strong. Hank could already see him naked; the lean stomach, rippling; cobblestones beneath taut flesh. The pecs, dusted with curly black hair. All that definition accentuated by a light sheen of sweat.
Sweat that, in another life, a freer life, Hank would bring out.
* * * *
Jesus. Abbott put down the white cable-knit sweater (he’d been thinking how cozy and warm it’d be for the coming winter). Not five minutes and already the whores are starting in. He tried not to meet this new one’s eyes, to pretend he wasn’t there, but the guy’s gaze was relentless, almost burning into his back. Abbott looked back at him, quick -- a scowl.
Dude, have you no shame?
Abbott hoped his frown was enough to send the pervert scurrying away. Rummaging through the pile of sweaters on the table, he waited to feel the absence of his stare -- and was disappointed. It was as though Abbott had somehow encouraged him; almost as if he could feel the creep’s breath on him. It made him furious. The blood pounded a beat at his temples, the pain ratcheting up a notch.
Why couldn’t he simply leave Abbott alone?
* * * *
Hank took a breath and approached him. I’m just going to ask for his opinion, that’s all. At least that’s what he told himself by way of rationalization.
“I’m looking for a sweater to buy my brother for his birthday.” He rummaged arbitrarily through the stacks and pulled out a gray V-neck. “What do you think of this?” He held up the sweater and tried to engage his eyes. Such blue eyes. Like a summer sky ...
But the object of his desire refused to return Hank’s gaze, even though the green of his own eyes had never failed. Ah ... playing hard to get. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m just playing. Relieving a boring Monday morning ...
“I don’t know. Costs more than I can afford.” He glanced over to the aisle, where a female sales clerk stood. “Why don’t you ask one of the salespeople? That’s what they’re here for.”
Hank leaned closer. “What would they know? They’re just here to move the merchandise. I need an honest opinion.” Hank paused. “From a man who obviously knows a thing or two about looking good.”
“I don’t think I can help you.”
Hank watched as the hunk strode away. He took in the guy’s ass, encased in worn Levi’s, and thought he’d be damned if he’d be ignored.
“Wait!” Hank caught up with him, placing a hand on his arm, squeezing the bicep beneath the black cotton T-shirt. “Is that how you take a compliment?”
“What?” That surly expression again. Didn’t he realize how alluring it looked? “A man should know how to take a compliment a little more gracefully.” Hank winked. “One never knows which one will be the last.”
“Listen, I’ve got an appointment in about fifteen minutes. I gotta buy these jeans and get outta here.” He sneered. “Thanks so much for the kind word.” The last remark was so heavily loaded with sarcasm that Hank took a step back.
The guy turned his back and headed for the cash registers.
