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By Suzanne Kelman

GENRE: Romance, Thriller
LOGLINE: A self-absorbed social-climber, who falls in love while trying to come to terms with the demons of her past, has to flee for her life when she uncovers an assassination conspiracy between Hilter and Franco on the eve of WWII


Skye Beaumont is a socialite with a past that haunts her. Feeling responsible for her mother’s murder as a child, she has created a hard and brittle edge to protect herself. With the world on the brink of WWII, she travels with Rodger Hargreaves, her current lover, to Morocco for what she believes to be a social holiday. While there, she is inexplicably drawn to David Hamilton the fiancé of a spoilt young aristocrat and sparks fly between them. However, things take a sinister turn when she is inadvertently pulled into a web of intrigue by Rodger who has a much darker agenda including a high level assassination plot. After Skye confronts Rodger with her suspicions, he tries to kill her to silence her. Skye fights back and believing she has killed Rodger in self-defense, is forced to flee Morocco on David’s sailboat. Skye and David are finally able to be together and believe they are safe, when they are suddenly attacked and their boat destroyed by an unknown assailant. Skye manages to cheat death again and regains consciousness on an idyllic Greek island without David, without her memory and completely oblivious to the mortal danger she still faces. But without the stifling grip of her past, she starts to open up to the world around her and begins to experience life more fully. Befriending an eccentric artist, she returns to Paris with him, unaware that her entire past lays in wait for her there. As her world closes in, Skye has to confront the fact that in order to save her life she must face and battle the demons of her past.


FIRST FIVE PAGES OF VIOLET SKYE EXT. MEDITERRANEAN SEA - DAY - AUGUST 1936 STILLNESS: Beneath the sea, a vast expanse of blue for miles upon miles. The early morning sun punctures the water, illuminating the coral rocks and vibrant sea life, turning them from an insipid mass to a vibrant hue. Above, a slick wooden sailing boat cuts through the surface. Its silhouette throws an exaggerated shadow across the soft warm ridges of the sand below. EXT. SAIL BOAT “WIND SONG” DECK - CONTINUOUS A woman, flushed and breathless, dances joyously to an unheard tune. A man, stretched out on the deck, golden, happy and content, watches her, captivated. The boat makes good speed over a calm, rippling sea. A small plane, an Heinkel Fighter, looms into view. The plane closes in quickly. Suddenly there is an unexpected and explosive round of gunfire careening the boat. The man and woman dive for cover. The boat shudders, then seesaws disturbingly. The man is thrust backwards as the boom whips around the splintering boat and hits him. He loses consciousness. The woman reaches for him desperately. The boat ruptures into pieces around them and the gaping void in the deck drenches them both with water. The boat sinks fast. The man is entwined in the rigging and the anchor chain. The woman clings to him intentionally as they are swallowed by the sea. EXT. MEDITERRANEAN SEA - CONTINUES Fish scatter frantically as they plummet. The woman arcs her neck, struggling to hold onto her companion, her own life and the perfect blue sky above. She frantically tries to untangle rigging that is wrapped around her companion. However, they sink like a stone, pulled by the weight of the anchor. Still she clings to him, making no attempt to let go and save herself. Desperately, she continues to fight to free him while they plummet fathom upon fathom and are claimed by the dark abyss. EIGHT WEEKS BEFORE. EXT. CAFE - PARIS - EVENING SKYE BEAUMONT, late twenties, gorgeous, bored, English, sits across the table from ANDRE DURAND, late twenties, handsome, charming. He is holding a small velvet box. They are in the midst of an argument. ANDRE (in French) But I don’t understand! SKYE (in French) What don’t you understand? I said no! ANDRE (in French) But I love you! I want to marry you! SKYE (in French) Love? I don’t believe in love. ANDRE (in French) How can you say that? Skye gets up from the table. SKYE (in French) It was fun. Now it’s not. I’m done. ANDRE (in French) Damn you! Skye downs her drink in one go and walks away. At another table, ROGER HARGREAVES, intense, impeccably dressed, watches her as she walks away. He gets up, tosses money on the table and follows her. INT. BAR - LATER THAT NIGHT - PARIS Skye sits in a lush, velvet booth, drinking a martini. She pulls out a cigarette and puts it to her lips. A man’s hand leans in to light it for her. She smiles at him. It is Roger. ROGER May I buy you a drink? SKYE Why should I let you buy me a drink? Roger gestures to a waiter and orders Cristal champagne. SKYE Cristal? That’s my favorite. ROGER I know. SKYE And not easy to get. ROGER Depends on who you are. SKYE I’m intrigued. ROGER I was hoping you might be. INT. ROOGER’S HOTEL ROOM - LATER THAT EVENING Roger is in a discussion on the telephone. ROGER Yes. I know we need Bromley’s support and his airstrips. I’ll be in Morocco in two weeks! I’m working on something. You get your part done and I’ll do mine. Roger hangs up the phone. INT. HOUSE OF CHANEL - PARIS - THE NEXT DAY Skye rushes past the concierge who frowns. SKYE (in French) I know I’m late! I’ll be ready in a moment! CONCEIRGE (in French) It’s too late. The client has already re-scheduled. Madame is very angry and wants to speak with you. Wait, there’s someone... Skye goes into her office and shuts the door. Andre is waiting for her with flowers. SKYE (in French) What are you doing here? ANDRE (in French) I had to see you! SKYE (in French) Leave me alone! ANDRE (in French) I am never going to leave you alone. He puts the flowers on her desk as MADAME, sixties, formidable, enters. She is clearly furious. MADAME (in French - to Andre) Please leave us. Andre leaves. Madame turns to Skye. MADAME Late. Again. If you weren’t so popular, you’d have been dismissed by now. But if it happens again, you will no longer work for House of Chanel. Madame leaves the office. Skye sits at her desk and reaches in her purse and pulls out a flask. A pile of bills fall on her desk. Angry, she gathers them up and notices a business card. It’s Roger’s. She takes a drink and picks up her telephone. INT. ROGER’S HOTEL ROOM - LATER THAT AFTERNOON Skye and Roger lie in bed. He gets up and pours her a glass of champagne. ROGER You are magnificent. SKYE Tell me more about Morocco.

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