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Under a Greek Moon

Page 41

by Carol Kirkwood

His patience snapped. ‘The doctor isn’t a fucking film director forced into this year of hell by the film studio that pays his wages.’

Stung, Shauna retreated. ‘You chose this life, Dan – we both did, but that doesn’t mean it has to ruin your health – or our marriage.’

‘You didn’t say that when you swanned off for a six-month shoot with Richard Gere, did you?’

Shauna’s eyes flashed at the accusation. ‘You told me to take that movie. “It will be good for you to do a comedy,” you said.’

Dan rubbed his eyes, sick and tired of the endless arguments, but knowing he was the cause. ‘Oh, Shauna, can we please stop talking about your fucking career for five minutes.’

‘Fine. I’m going to take a bath.’ She went into the enormous bathroom with its marble and gold sunken bath and slammed the door.

Annoyed with himself because he recognized that Shauna didn’t deserve his barbs, Dan raked his hand over his chin and reached for the nightstand. He removed his medication organizer from the top drawer and took out a small paper wrap of white powder that had not been prescribed by his doctor. Using a tiny spoon, he measured out a small amount, used his credit card to chop two lines and snorted them with the aid of a rolled-up twenty-euro note.

Feeling better now, he lifted the phone and put in a call to his accountant in New York. His foot tapped impatiently as he waited to be connected.

‘Abe, it’s Dan Jackson. You remember that hundred-thousand-dollar transfer I had you make to Frankie Martinez? Well, I need you to make another one.’ He pulled the phone away from his ear as Abe squawked down the line at him.

‘Yes, I know she’s just some bit-part actress, I know it’s madness – but do what I’m asking you and send her another hundred grand. And keep your mouth shut, OK? I can’t have Shauna finding out.’

Shauna felt detached as she and Dan posed for pictures outside the cinema that was the venue for tonight’s feature. Although the festival was tiring and repetitive, with way too many late nights, the effort involved in looking glamorous and delighted to be there wasn’t exactly coal mining. Red-carpet events like this kept the wheels of the industry turning. The publicity generated was good for business, and vital to smaller movies that might otherwise struggle to get noticed. Tonight, however, she was operating on autopilot, her mind preoccupied with the nagging concern that had dogged her for months: Dan was keeping secrets from her and something was terribly wrong with their marriage.

It wasn’t just the increase in the amount of cocaine he was taking. Their Malibu home was enormous and they both had their own suites, but they still slept together and, despite his attempts to hide the evidence, she had spotted the telltale signs. The clues had been easier to spot this past year, as he’d grown sloppy about sweeping away the residue on the glass table in his office. His unpredictable mood swings were now a constant. When she tried to broach the subject, his male pride wouldn’t allow him open up to her. Dan was a wonderful person in so many ways, but he was old-fashioned and kept his troubles to himself.

Their marital problems had gotten worse over the last couple of years. A shoot in Scotland that ran into problems when the director quit halfway through had meant an extended and enforced absence from each other’s lives. It had been a mistake; she could see that now. Dan had begged her to come back to LA when the shit hit the fan, but her loyalty to the cast and crew wouldn’t let her. By the time she returned, Dan was in South America, fulfilling a contractual obligation to shoot a drama set in the rainforest, even though he was in no condition, physically or mentally.

By the time they saw each other again, six months had gone by. The physical toll on Dan was obvious, he’d lost weight and looked as if he’d aged ten years. But the worst thing was, he seemed to have grown emotionally distant from her. When he was tired or under stress, he would rail against her, accusing her of being self-absorbed and only caring about her career. Afraid there might be some truth in his criticism, she did everything she could to restore his trust in her, turning down projects that would take her away from home. But whatever she did, it never seemed to be enough.

The photographers hailed them both, some throwing questions at her in Spanish, Italian and French as well as English; it was dizzying, she didn’t even try to answer, acknowledging with smiles and waves instead.

Maybe it was time for her to take a break from acting. She knew Dan’s doctor had put him on medication for his heart, and tonight had really worried her. Yes … taking a year or two out would be good for both of them, if she could persuade Dan to do the same. They could go back to Ireland. Maybe not to Enniscrea, but to somewhere not too far away so she could look in on her father. Dan loved the west coast of Ireland, they both did, and they could easily find some beautiful remote spot where there’d be no distractions. Maybe Dan could write that book about French Cinema and she could have a go at writing a novel …

As they headed through the doors into the reception, Dan dropped her hand and took off without a word. She watched as he greeted David Lynch and struck up a conversation with him. These days, it was quite a novelty to find herself alone at a party, even for a few moments. She accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter and cast her eye around the crowded room to see who she could spot. Susan Sarandon, who was chatting with Bill Murray and Emily Watson, caught sight of her and mouthed, ‘See you at dinner.’ Shauna responded with a smile and a thumbs-up.

Suddenly, Shauna’s heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of a face she’d hoped never to see again, one that dredged up unwelcome feelings and took her back to a time and a place she’d tried hard to forget. She was older than the last time Shauna had set eyes on her, but there was no question it was Sofía Constantis; she still had that imperious feline air that had led Chantelle to call her ‘the tigress’. Shauna took a sidestep and dropped discreetly behind a pillar to watch as Sofía airily surveyed the room, ignoring the short fat bald man who seemed intent on talking to her. And before the thought was even in her head – that Demetrios might also be in the room – a man appeared at Sofía’s side. Though she only glimpsed his face for a moment before he turned away again, Shauna recognized Demetrios. He still had the same confident bearing, his tanned face was as handsome as ever, his hair now sporting a few annoyingly attractive grey hairs.

Much as she would have liked to stay in her hiding place to drink in the sight of him, she was afraid if she did she would be unable to resist the magnetic pull he apparently still had over her. Don’t be ridiculous she told herself, it’s just the element of surprise that’s thrown you. When Roxy had gleefully reported that the European tabloids were all claiming the marriage was on the rocks, Shauna had told her she wasn’t the least bit interested. At the time, she’d meant it, yet here she was, unable to take her eyes off him. What was it about Demetrios that always brought out the idiot in her?

Before she could examine the thought further, Dan appeared at her side.

‘Why are you hiding? I thought the whole point of coming here was to be seen.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Here we go, they’re ushering everyone in now.’

She took Dan’s arm, put on her best smile, and together they crossed the room. If Shauna had allowed herself to glance in their direction – which she didn’t – she would have seen Sofía regard her with stony features and Demetrius knit his brow as they swept past, a questioning and confused look flitting across his face before she disappeared up the red-carpeted staircase.

Chapter 18

Demetrios Theodosis looked out over the Hudson River from his office at the top of Manhattan’s Rockefeller Centre. He’d taken the decision to move the company headquarters from Athens to New York four years ago, when his daughter left Greece to attend a boarding school in England. With her gone, he had no reason to stay and every reason to escape. Had Lukas Constantis still been president of the company, he would have vetoed the move, if only for the reason that Demetrios had suggested it. But after Lukas’s death in 1996, Demitrios had finally taken control of Hellenic Ventures – the company formed by the merger of the Theodosis and Constantis family holdings.

‘United for posterity!’ Lukas had announced triumphantly, toasting the bride and groom at the wedding which sealed the merger. But there had never been any unity between them, Demetrios thought ruefully as he looked down at the papers in front of him: the Decree Absolute that would put an end to the charade.

So far, they had manged to keep the divorce out of the tabloids, but Demetrius had long stopped caring what anyone thought about his marriage. He and Sofía had never been suited; they’d argued constantly from the start. She had never understood the nature of the business or the demands on his time, and he … well, he had never loved her. He had hoped that it would come in time, but on that he was mistaken. Their differences only became more exaggerated as the years ticked by. For the sake of the family, they had kept up the pretence and stayed married, though both of them had conducted a series of affairs, discreetly and otherwise – a fortune had been spent on bribes and court injunctions to keep the ensuing scandals out of the newspapers and the long lenses of the paparazzi at bay. Demetrios wouldn’t have bothered suppressing the stories if it weren’t for the fact Ariana’s heart would have been heart-broken if she’d found out how much her parents despised each other.

He picked up the gold-framed photograph of his daughter that sat on his desk. Ariana was sixteen now. Already she was starting to think about which university she wanted to go to. Demetrios would have liked her to follow in his footsteps and study at Harvard, while her mother wanted her to go to Oxford or Cambridge. He knew that Sofía would be doing everything in her power to make sure Ariana stayed in England, but he wasn’t about to intervene. His greatest wish was that his only child should have the freedom to make her own choices in life.

He took out his Waterman pen, hesitating only briefly before signing with a flourish. Their lawyers had spent months negotiating the settlement. Sofía had never been interested in the business and, while they couldn’t bear the sight of each other, they both had Ariana’s best interests at heart. That meant safeguarding the legacy that would be handed down to her: the family business, Hellenic Ventures. They’d therefore agreed that the divorce should be as quick and painless as possible. Sofía could now move on to the next stage of her life, probably marry a hedge-fund manager and relocate permanently to London, where she spent most of her time shopping in Bond Street or Harrods.

As for him … Demetrios stood and took his coffee cup to the window. He had loved New York when he was a young man, but now he longed for the uncomplicated life he’d known on Ithos. New York, well, it was the perfect place for a hungry young man, but what was he hungry for now that he was older … and lonelier?

He chided himself, When did you start falling victim to pity, old man?