Page 4 of The Christmas Invitation

‘What? That doesn’t make sense …’ Fliss trailed off. Until a few moments ago, she had no idea that these photos even existed, and now they were about to ruin her life. ‘This is insane! It was twenty years ago!’ she protested. ‘I was young, stupid … A moment of madness …’

‘Christ, Fliss,’ Eugene took off his glasses, rubbing his hands across his temples. ‘You’re not leaving me a lot of options here.’

‘Eugene!’ Fliss looked at him, seeing the distress on his face, but she couldn’t suppress her anger. ‘It isn’t what it looks like,’ she burst out, knowing how clichéd that sounded.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Eugene was shaking his head, though his expression was sympathetic. Fliss thought that was almost worse than if he had been furious. ‘The pictures will tell their own story. No one will want to listen to your explanation – you know how ruthless this business is.’

Fliss’s mind was racing, and like a carousel spinning so fast that the colours and shapes became a blur she couldn’t seem to focus on any one thought.

‘So – so what happens now?’ Fliss looked up at Eugene, unable to ignore the ugly stab of betrayal she was feeling. She had thought they were real friends, had been through a lot together, but one idiotic mistake from two decades ago and he was behaving as though she was a liability that he needed to wash his hands of.

Eugene looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m not going to pussyfoot around, Fliss. You need to step back for a while. Keep a low profile.’

‘Are you firing me?’ Disbelief mingled with anger, and Fliss was pleased to find that her old fire was still there, deep down, despite the quake in her voice.

‘No,’ Eugene began carefully. ‘Not necessarily, and consider that it could be much worse. You know how much the network likes and respects you. We can try and limit the damage this way, get ahead if this makes it to the press.’

‘The press?’

‘We have no way of knowing who sent these and what they have planned. We have to consider the worst-case scenario. Look, you’ve done an incredible job over the years, if you keep your head down …’

‘Damn right I’ve done an incredible job!’ Fliss shot back furiously. ‘NYBS’s first female talk show lead, highest ever network ratings for the Friday night slot, the biggest female-led talk show since Oprah. And you’re going to forget all of that because of this?’ Fliss picked up one of the photographs, holding it between the tip of her thumb and forefinger as though it was something disgusting.

‘Look,’ Eugene said, his voice softening as he went over to his drinks cabinet and poured two generous measures of Scotch, placing one down in front of Fliss, ‘we’re doing everything we can to bury this story. In the meantime, we can say that you’re taking a break – we’ll put out a statement saying that you’re taking time out for your mental health … burnout. Then, when all of this has died down, we can talk about you coming back.’

‘What if I don’t want to go?’ Fliss’s level gaze met Eugene’s, not breaking eye contact. She wanted to show him that she had nothing to be ashamed of.

‘That’s not an option, Fliss,’ he said simply.

Fliss nodded slowly. She took a sip of the Scotch; it burned in her throat, but right now she welcomed it. ‘I’ve worked my arse off for you over the years, turned down multi-million dollar offers from other networks. It’s a shame you couldn’t show that same loyalty in return.’

‘Not firing you is loyalty. Do you know how hard I’ve had to fight just to give you this? Consider yourself lucky it’s me sitting here …’ Eugene let his gaze drift to the photographs on the table.

Fliss closed her eyes for a second, turning her head away from the offending sight. Images assailed her in flashback: a nightclub, loud music, darkness, and then …

She opened her eyes and stood up, draining her Scotch and placing the empty glass down on the desk.

‘Yes, you’re right. Thank you for everything, Eugene,’ Fliss said coolly, determined to maintain her dignity.

‘Keep your head down. Let the PR machine do its work. I’m always here on the end of the phone—’

But Fliss had already turned and was walking out of the door, her shock turning to white rage. Someone from her past had betrayed her. And she was determined to find out who.

Chapter 2

The elevator doors opened and Fliss stepped out, trying to process what had just happened as she strode through the grand lobby, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She raised a hand to wave at Leroy, the security guard, not trusting herself to speak.

‘Happy holidays, Ms Courtney!’ he called out. Fliss hurried through the revolving doors, shocked by the blast of cold air that greeted her on the other side.

She set off walking, burying herself deeper into her full-length woollen coat, tightening her scarf and pulling her hat down low to ensure she wouldn’t be recognised. Her feet took her to the heart of Rockefeller Center, where the iconic Christmas tree soared high above her, beautifully decorated with thousands of coloured lights and a dazzling Swarovski star shining right at the very top.

The Plaza was filled with tourists and locals, some wearing Santa hats or reindeer antlers, everyone in a holiday mood. A gaggle of excited families waited outside FAO Schwarz, others heading for the Top of the Rock – the famous observation deck at 30 Rockefeller Plaza – to see the iconic view.

Moving without thinking, Fliss followed the railing along the periphery of the famous skating rink. Out on the ice, groups of friends were laughing and shrieking as they tried to stay upright. Children clung to plastic penguins, and couples glided together, holding hands.

Fliss had seemed to have the Midas touch throughout her career, ever since she landed her first role in television, moving from behind the scenes to in front of the camera, then finding fame and heading to the US where her idea for a talk show was green lit and went on to become one of the biggest shows in the country. She had success, wealth … but not always happiness. There had been ups and downs in her personal life, but she had always had her work to fall back on. Until now.

Fliss was jolted from her introspection by shrieks and gasps around her. Looking up, she realised it was snowing, the first magical white flakes falling softly. Her face was cold, she realised, her fingers freezing despite her leather gloves. Taking in the Plaza for one final time, Fliss headed to 50th Street then hailed a cab without looking back.