Book Recap: Moonlit Obsession, Chapter 19

Greetings, gentle readers!

This is... one of the bad ones. Like, one of the really bad ones. You know how in chapter 16, the book apparently heard me laughing at a silly line and threw something at me that freaked me the fuck out? This entire chapter is that after the blast I had with chapter 18. So let's get it over with.

Warning: today's chapter involves the heroine being terrified of the """hero""", some more physical abuse, and a bit of inner monologue from Buffalo Burke that's so horrifying for a romance novel, I had to take a photo of it to prove I wasn't making it up.

Pictured: me getting hit by the bad bad after the funny bad lulled me into a false sense of hilarity.

Chapter 19: Match Made In Hell

Previously on Moonlit Obsession: since no bad romance is complete without the Big Romantic Misunderstanding, we were kindly provided with one in the form of our amusingly-named heroine, Anemone, being led to believe that her muscular love seduced her only for her spy intel. This made things somewhat awkward when it turned out that not only does her dad know the guy, but he explicitly wants Burke's help with foiling an evil plan that finally fulfilled my prophecy from my recap of chapter 3: 'Then again, applying the word "think" to a lot of things the characters do would collapse the entire plot of this book like a Jenga tower. If you think I'm being too harsh, wait and see.' Then, Anemone was informed that her role in said plan-foiling is to be the one delivering the villain to her dad and Burke.

Chapter 19 starts with... this.

For a moment no one spoke. Then Anemone flew forward quick as a bee. She was conscious of an odd tingling all through her body.

Presented without comment because I have no idea what the hell I just read.

So as Anemone flies like a bee and... tingles, she asks her dad if her planned role is to bring down De Vauban and his henchpeople. Mr. Carstairs confirms that, but tells her she can stay out of the danger if she wants, and drops a hint about him suspecting who the Spider really is. Take note of that one, because it'll come back soon in a giant pair of squeaky clown shoes. Anemone asks when she can begin whatever her assignment will be, then Burke is a dick to them both and tells them that it's out of the question to use Anemone in this mission, because she's too young and inexperienced. Ignoring the fact that she's the worst spy ever, because everyone else in this story is also the worst spy ever so it kind of doesn't matter... who died and put you in charge, my good man?

Naturally, Anemone is outraged and tells him to go sit on a porcupine. (I'm paraphrasing, of course.) Before Mr. Carstairs could realize that he's witnessing the worst-timed lovers' spat in spy novel history, the concierge comes to apologetically inform them that the parlor is needed "with a typically Gallic shrug". Do... do French people shrug differently than the English in this book? Do they use a different body part or what? I'm gonna ponder this for a while.

Mr. Carstairs then comes up with a brilliant cover story on the spot without any input from the other two, saying that Anemone is his niece and Burke is her husband to explain why two random people both asked to see him in the hotel. I would love if the concierge then told him that Burke said something completely different when he came looking for his lady love, because that would be hilarious, but alas the mysterious deity named Plot Contrivance is on the heroes' side and it works like a charm. Burke then says that his wife is tired and they need a room, making Anemone panic because that would mean sharing quarters. Oh, dear.

Anemone tries to get her dad to stay with her for a little longer so she can avoid confronting Burke (romance!) but he has to go back to the job in the hotel that he took as part of his cover. Then she thinks of leaving and getting lost in the streets outside to escape the impending argument, and I laughed very hard because her narration calls New Orleans "a colorful, overflowing bouillabaisse of a city". I think someone needs some lunch.

Alas, what she gets is Buffalo Burke calling her "my pet" again as he takes her arm and leads her upstairs, with the concierge taking them both to a fancy room described in way more detail than I care about. Anemone admires the posh furnishings until the concierge leaves, and she finds herself alone with Burke. Keep in mind that all she did was get off the ship without telling Burke where she was going – a bit worrying to discover, sure, but given that they're in True Lurve, one would think they could talk about it like adults, right?

Nah. Buffalo Burke just freaks us – as in, Anemone, me, and probably y'all, gentle readers – the fuck out.

"Going someplace, my pet?" he drawled.

She stopped dead, every muscle freezing. A cord of fear twisted up her spine at the ugly gleam in his eyes.

Romance!

I have no desire to recap what happens next, so I'll only give you the highlights. We're treated to a scene best described as The Big Romantic Misunderstanding: Domestic Abuse Edition, in which Anemone thinks that she's sure Burke only used her for intel, while Burke tells her that he's sure she only used him for intel. Isn't it sweet how much they trust each other? Anyway, you folks are already familiar with Buffalo Burke's conversation methods with Anemone when something's not going his way, no need to dwell on that part of the scene. Anemone is incensed at the thought that he would think so little of her – doesn't stop her from thinking so little of him too based on nothing but Johnny's word, but go off, I guess – and decides to hurt him in exchange for the paaaaaain he caused her. While I approve of the principle, I find her method a little counterintuitive, because what she does is tell Burke that he's right.

Her eyes blazed into his like huge embers of glinting charcoal.

Here's some description fail to ease the pain because I'm about to hit y'all with something that... I was debating showing this scene at all in my silly recap, but frankly, y'all had to see it to know I wasn't making it up. Never in my life, before or since, did I physically recoil from a book and need to put it down because it freaked me out that bad, but... after over a literal month of clowning on this book with my writing group during my first read, this is the scene where I almost called it quits.

Behold.

 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA–

Wait, sorry, let me try again.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA–

[TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES. PLEASE STAND BY.]

Ahem. Sorry. Moving on because there's literally no comment I can make on this that doesn't come out as screaming.

Romance!

So after that AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA– sorry. After that... lovely moment, we're treated to two whole pages of Burke and you know what, no thank you. I don't care how worried he was about Sea Urchin when she vanished on him or how much paaaaaain this whole farce is causing him. Just when I thought my opinion of him (or this book, frankly) couldn't be lower, my man broke out the pickaxe and didn't stop until he hit the Earth's core.

Anyway, because they are a match made in hell, Burke decides to salvage his pride... by telling Anemone that she's right and he did, in fact, use her for intel. Idiots of a feather truly do flock together.

So once the soap opera melodrama has somehow managed to hit a new high and low at the same time, Burke acidly tells Anemone that no matter their opinions of each other, they'll have to keep posing as a married couple until their mission to stop De Vauban is over, now that her dad has hit on that brilliant cover story for them. He also tells Anemone that Mr. Carstairs's Thirty Second Wonder Plan must be built on her being sent to charm De Vauban, who is apparently a bit of a womanizer. Ew. Interesting chapter from the Carstairs Family Handbook of Spying, I must say. After informing Anemone that her own damn dad intends to use her as a honeytrap, Burke leaves Anemone to mourn their lost love and me to mourn my lost braincells.

Worry not, gentle readers – this was, as far as I recall, the worst chapter of the book. It'll be smoother... or at least sillier sailing from here. Cheerio.