Mallory Christiani comes off at first as being your typical damsel in distress. She finds herself being carted off and bundled into a car by an unknown man, in spite of all her instincts and modern-day warnings about getting into cars with strangers. She recalls Ted Bundy, a handsome, charming man who deceived some of his victims by telling them that he was a cop in order to trick them into stepping into his car before he abducted them.
At every moment, I was inwardly screaming at this woman to shout, yell, do something, ANYTHING, that would mark her as being anything other than a foolish cow willing to walk placidly to her doom. If this were anything other than a romance novel, it would be a story about a cunning serial killer. Even Bud MacPhearson, the man who takes her, admits that he made some wrong moves. He talks about how he leads talks on crime prevention specifically targeted at women, so he understands her trepidation.
There is danger but it comes from another source—Mallory’s child Emily has been kidnapped. From here, Mallory starts leaning on Bud at every opportunity, falling into his arms, collapsing on his shoulder, letting him sleep (platonically) in bed beside her. My distaste at her willing dependence on a stranger was gradually tempered by the author’s adept writing of Mallory’s turmoil.
She’s a mother who risks losing her child and her terror becomes a palpable thing. Unless you’re a parent, you can’t truly understand what it means to be always looking out for your progeny but Ms. Anderson makes us comprehend Mallory’s intense, yawing emotions. For quite some time, the burgeoning sexual heat between Mallory and Bud is forcibly set to the side. It’s Mallory’s terror over her child’s probable fate at the hands of a ruthless criminal that takes front and center stage.
Mallory gradually shows that she’s more than a DID. She demands that Bud take her along into dangerous situations and she actually proves useful and capable in extracting herself from peril. The ending, where she rallies her available resources to save her loved ones, was an unexpected delight for this reader.
However, the romance itself is soured because Bud has a very real bigotry against the monied class in general and Mallory in particular. Years ago, Mallory’s frenemy broke the heart of Bud’s half-brother, driving the man to suicidal action, and Bud holds Mallory and all her class indirectly responsible.
This previous tragedy goes far in winning a grudging acceptance of his disdain for Mallory. However, I couldn’t help but feel annoyed and embittered by this dichotomy between wealthy women and wealthy men in romance novels. If it’s the man who’s rich while the woman is poor, we’re expected to feel as if she’s Cinderella who’s nabbed the prince at the ball. You lucky gal! The fish jumped right into the boat; all you have to do is whack him with the oar!
But, if it’s the woman who has money and the man who is poor, unnecessary roadblocks invariably arise. We’re expected to accept his contempt for the rich, his injured pride and inferiority complex at hooking up with a woman who has more money than his entire family. It’s not considered proper for a woman to possess more money, assets or her own island than her male counterpart. In other novels of this sort, I’ve seen the wealthy woman work to give away her cash because it proves that she’s more than a gold-digging fortune hunter and therefore the man can take her into his heart.
Bud tells Mallory that her money gets in the way. I wished that she (and any other female who finds herself on the wrong end of this barb) would point out that, if she said such a thing, it would make her a snob. So what does that say about him? Reverse snobbery is still snobbery.
Also, often times, the woman may have much more money but it’s usually in the hundreds of thousands (as in Mallory’s case). She’s never a millionaire or a billionaire. Such loads of cash are appropriate in the hands of a man. He’s allowed to have his own private yachts, trust funds, mansions in different countries (or his own country) but she isn’t.
I suppose I should be glad that Mallory proves herself to be clever, rich and resourceful. But Bud’s nearly unrelenting bigotry taints this romance. Even the touch of humor at the end is strained and unconvincing. So this novel is brilliant in the crime aspect. In the romance department—not so much.