His lips curled as Sophia huffed and Gabriela, very seriously, nodded. “I will, Alistair. I promise.”

“Good. I’m counting on you.” Alistair ruffled Gabriela’s blonde hair and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Sophia into his arms in a fierce embrace before kissing her again. “I’ll be back for dinner. Anything - anything - you call me. Promise?”

Sophia smiled, enchanted with his concern and whispered, “I promise.”

“Come on, Alistair Connor,” Tavish called from the door of Alistair’s bedroom, “Munro’s ready and waiting.”

Fuck. I wish I didn’t need to work today. Reluctantly, he orse from the bed and left the room.

Alistair ducked into the Rolls-Royce Phantom, closed the door and turned to watch the house as the car drove to Craigdale’s heliport.

Tavish chuckled and Alistair turned to look at his brother. “The mighty Alistair Connor concerned for a woman.”

Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward and changed the subject, “So, did your shrink get a name for me yet?”

“Aye. He suggested two psychotherapists. A man and a woman. Both are very well regarded and they work at the same place. Which do you prefer?”

“The man,” was Alistair’s immediate response.

“Very well.” Tavish forwarded the contact from his cell phone. “Andrew Volk. Graduated from Cambridge and now teaches there in the psychology department. His office is near the bank, just across the river, on Colombo Street. Dr. Volk’s approach is very-”

“Tavish Uilleam. Do you really think I need counseling?”

“Is this a serious question?” Tavish asked, incredulous. “Let me explain something to you. Counseling tends to look at current problems, while psychotherapy tends to go deeper into past experiences. You should have been doing psychotherapy since before Nathalie died. Psychoanalysis or analytic psychotherapy are not only for people who have mental disorders, but also for those who have mental distress. It’s more than clear to me that you need it. And it seems that Sophia shares my opinion.”

“I don’t know...” Alistair shook his head slowly. He didn’t relish the idea of reliving Heather’s betrayal or Nathalie’s death. He didn’t want to talk about his debauchery or about the hundreds of women he’d bedded and gladly punished. He just wanted to focus on a new future with Sophia and Gabriela.

“It’ll help you. I assure you, Brother. We have impulses, perceptions and thoughts, which we aren’t consciously aware of. There are conflicts in these aspects of our minds. Heather triggered many unconscious aspects of your own personality that I’m sure even you didn’t know you had. You came in contact with a darker side that has poisoned you. That gave rise to disturbances and symptoms which now need treatment.”

Alistair opened the door and walked to his helicopter thinking about his brother’s words. He greeted Munro and sat on the seat, brooding.

“Alistair Connor, believe me. It will be very good for you. Psychoanalysis isn’t a superficial thing or just at the level of intellectual problem solving. It helps a person to think about what is going on in their life, not only at a time of difficulty. In some cases, patient and therapist meet three or four times a week-”

“I don’t have that kind of time.” Alistair frowned. “This is bullshit.”

“You can do fewer sessions, but no less than twice a week.” When Alistair opened his mouth to say something, Tavish interrupted him, “Try it. For six months, at least. Then, only after this period, you tell me what you think about it.”

London, Colombo Street. Dr. Andrew Volk’s Office.


Thursday, April 1st, 2010.


9.37 a.m.

“It’s worth remembering that most people behave self-destructively at times, even if they don’t realize it or think that they are hurting only other people around them.” Dr. Volk settled himself more comfortably in his armchair. “Sometimes, Alistair, this is done just to numb or distract and avoid being alone with their thoughts and feelings. It’s already an enormous step that you can admit that what you have done was because you felt guilty over your daughter’s death.”

“I’ve never tried to fool myself. I’m an intelligent man.”

“I’m not disputing it. But, perhaps, you don’t have the full notion of the importance of happened to you. The worst damages were caused by things you are not conscious. You’re very much in control and there are many things that escape our control and reason. The world is also made of irrational things. Stop behaving so rationally. I want you to realize is that these feelings are not very well worked out. That your responses were a way to cope with feelings that threatened to overwhelm you. You lost your wife and daughter on the same day.”

“Feelings,” Alistair snorted. “I didn’t have any feelings for Heather, Andrew. I hate her with all my being.”

Dr. Volk almost smiled. “Unfortunately, I have to contradict you. You had feelings for Heather, yes. You hated her and painful emotions, such as rage, hate, self-hatred and guilt are included in these feelings I’m talking about. Also, sadness, grief, emptiness, loneliness and many others show themselves through the body, where they can develop somatic reactions and need to be dealt with. You were abused-”

“Abused?”

“Have you ever stopped to think about this? All the time you keep saying that you understand and that you know what happened, but you don’t. You don’t want to hear and you don’t even let me approach you. You keep rationalizing what happened. Stop looking at things so coldly, Alistair. Yes, you were abused.”

“Andrew, I wasn’t a child anymore. I was twenty-six years old. I was not forced. I entered the relationship of my own free will.” Alistair tilted his head to the side and finished, “And I liked it.” Up to a certain point.

“Very well. Let me just clarify that there are many different forms of abuse, sometimes we are not able to see it. Your marriage was a relationship which must be named for what it was: a psychologically damaging relationship.”

Niarchos Angepopoulos’s house, in the gazebo.


Sunday, June 18th, 1989.


12.12 p.m.

Ethan touched the letter for the thousandth time, tracing the swirls and contours of Eve’s handwriting. He could almost feel the softness of her skin under his fingertips and a tear stained the paper. He didn’t wipe his face as more tears fell.

He couldn’t understand what had happened. Everything was going so well. During the past months they had settled into an enchanting routine: they went to school, they did their homework, they played tennis, they travelled at the weekends and they made love every single night.

Why has she left me? When Isis discovered Eve in Ethan’s bed the morning after his birthday, he expected her to be angry, but she gave them her blessing, saying that she preferred that Eve had her first time with a gentleman like Ethan and that she was happy they were dating. Niarchos had also congratulated Ethan. Everybody was happy.

So, what went wrong? Disobeying his grandfather’s orders, he returned to the house, blinded to the beautiful flowers and hummingbirds that graced the garden.

12.20 p.m.

Ethan slowly pushed open his grandfather’s home office door. He had no more strength left inside him. The sound of feminine voices made him stop.

Eve. So she regretted leaving and has come back. A smile split his face and he brushed away his tears. But as he eavesdropped, his smile waned.

“You played your parts well, my dears.” Niarchos kissed Eve and Isis on the cheek and handed them an envelope each. “I’ve been generous with the bonuses. I have to congratulate you, Eve. You are an accomplished actress.”

“Monsieur Angepopoulos, it was my most agreeable job,” Eve said, matter of factly. “Your grandson is a gentleman. A little green compared to you, but still a delicious treat. I wish all my clients were hunks like you and your grandson.”

Clients? What... Eve was paid? She’s a... prostitute? Ethan was astounded.

Niarchos chortled. “Thanks, my dear. Next time, I want a taste of you.”

Eve laughed. “Mon chèr, that would be my pleasure.”

How dare she! How dare they! Something broke inside Ethan’s soul and he lost his temper. He pushed the door wide open and shouted, “You slut! You faked it the whole time, didn’t you?” He advanced in Eve’s direction, grabbed her by the arms, turning her to him, heaving with anger. “You whore! You-” He slapped her so hard that she fell on the floor.

“Ethan!” Niarchos’s voice boomed in the room. “Control yourself.”

“And you, Grandpa! You!” He didn’t know what to say. He was too confused. He never thought that his grandfather would betray him like that. He turned and ran away from the office. He didn’t want to see her. Never again. He didn’t want to face his grandfather.

Ethan ran. He ran through the garden and reached the beach. And continued running.

His tears blinded him and he tripped and fell on the sand. He rose and ran, entering the sea, not even bothering to take off his shoes, and swam away. He heard his grandfather calling his name, but he kept on swimming.

He didn’t know how far or how long he swam. He only stopped when his eyes were stinging from the salt and his arms and legs couldn’t carry him any farther.

Then he turned and looked at the lonely old man sitting on one of the reclining chairs with his head in his hands. His gray mane of hair glimmered under the sun.

Niarchos Angepopoulos was Ethan’s only family now.

And he was there at the beach.

Still there. Waiting for him to return.

Ethan swam back.

Ells Hall.


Thursday, April 1st, 2010.


8.18 p.m.

Sophia entered the game room, wearing a silvery ankle length gown that made Tavish whisper to Leonard, “Oh, this is so fucking unfair. Some guys have all the luck. She looks like an angel.”

“Sophia is not just an angel, Tavish Uilleam,” Leonard said to his brother-in-law, with an amazed tone in his voice. “Not by a long shot.”

At that moment, she looked totally innocent, standing by the grand piano in the corner, unaware of the men discussing her. She only had eyes for the rugged man in front of her.

The dress clung sensuously to her curves without being overly tight. The sleeves and the skirt flared and swung as she walked. The marks on her neck were long gone and the neckline enticed the eye. Her hair hung down to the small of her back in a dark cascade beckoning for caresses.

To Alistair, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. And she was his. No one else’s. He looked around the room and discovered Tavish and Leonard observing Sophia, their gazes glued to her. He pulled her by the hand to the piano bench, “Come. Play with me.”

“Alistair has had his share of misfortune,” Leonard said, turning back to Tavish. “I wouldn’t wish what he’s been through on my worst enemy.”

Tavish looked at his brother-in-law and pondered his next question. “You know, don’t you?”

“What?” Leonard was very ethical and never talked about his clients. No matter what. No one in the family knew that Alistair had gone to him asking for help.

“About Heather. That she was cheating.”

This he could talk about. Everyone knew that Heather had been unfaithful. Leonard frowned slightly and said in a low voice, “Tavish, as always the spouse is the last to know. I’m sure Alistair thinks no one knows.”

“He never talked to me. Did he-”

“No, we never spoke overtly about it. But if he had come to you, would you have been able to tell him, your estranged brother, that the woman you abhorred and had counseled against was cheating on him?”

Tavish sighed and shook his head, “Nae, I guess not.”

“Let’s keep it that way, then.” Leonard changed the subject as Alexander joined them, but Alistair’s image of when they were younger came back to his mind.

He looked to where Sophia and Alistair were seated, playing the piano together. Leonard sighed. He knew that Alistair’s scars ran deep and that time didn’t make one forget the kinds of things that had happened to him. There was some hope, however. Sophia was just what Alistair needed. Looking at them together, Leonard wished his friend found peace within himself not to mess up with her.

11.37 p.m.

“I’ve told you, Alice, I’m not going to be the duke,” Alistair said harshly, startling Sophia, who was talking with Leonard.