Perfect Mistake - Free To Read

Chapter One

Landing on her feet came as naturally to Simone Levin as landing a plane, but this time…dread stirred in her stomach as she glanced down at her phone again.

The pilots’ schedule she had downloaded minutes before boarding her international flight to Dar es Salaam didn’t specify where she’d be flying to this week, but the solid orange block mocking her from the screen was crystal clear. She was on for the next three weeks straight.

Ten minutes to landing. She swallowed the curse that hovered on her lips and leaned back against the seat. Her schedule hadn’t been the only bad news. Peppe had suffered a heart attack a few days ago. She held a deep affection for the Italian owner of the Tanzanian safari airline she piloted for. Peppe had taken a chance on her, given her a job, at a time when her life had been in shambles. For the past three years he’d always been in her corner regarding the schedule she needed. But now…

She glared a last time at the solid orange block and sighed as she switched off her phone. There was no way she could have foreseen this mess, but right now she wished she’d never gone on vacation. She would have flown home had the news of Peppe’s heart attack reached her sooner, would have been making sure whoever took over in his absence understood her scheduling needs. An orange block meant she would spend an overnight at a safari lodge, somewhere in the sticks. The new schedule was crazy, and it wasn’t as if any of her fellow pilots would stand up for her in her absence.

Shit. Forget about landing on her feet this time. She’d settle for landing at all.

A warm little hand covered hers and she turned to her three-year-old, who sat next to her. She leaned in and wrapped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and pulled her into a hug to settle her frayed nerves. The economy class seat’s armrest was a pain in the midriff, but hugs were important. Especially today, when after two weeks of vacation she’d be leaving Sarah with her nanny again.

“Love you, Mommy.”

Sarah always picked up on her mood. She was too quiet today. Ever since she’d discovered talking, it had been as if the radio were tuned in to a talk show for toddlers. Forcing herself to unclench her muscles, she exhaled her nerves and smiled as she brushed a few rogue curls from Sarah’s forehead. “Love you too, darling.”

Sarah had it more spot-on than she cared to admit. She was nervous as hell for their future. There was no way she could manage three weeks away from her daughter. She hardly managed the two nights she had to spend away during a week, when she had to fly guests to some far-flung safari lodge. But it wasn’t just Peppe and the schedule.

Before she’d gone on leave, she’d applied for the airline’s fleet manager position. It would be a promotion, but more importantly, an office job, which meant no overnights. She’d never wanted an office job, but over the past few years, it had started to make too much sense. But Peppe had suffered his heart attack before he had finalized the promotion. Simone liked to be up in the air, but not like this.

She itched to get her messages. She’d sent Michael Flynn, a co-pilot and friend at Carlevaro Air, a message just before take-off from Heathrow, asking him what he knew about the schedule changes.

They undoubtedly had to do with Peppe Carlevaro’s subsequent medical evacuation to Rome. One of the cons of living in a third-world country was that the medical facilities were not always up to scratch.

A replacement from somewhere in the Carlevaro International swamp had probably already descended on them to throw his weight around. Some idiot who had no idea about flying a paper plane, never mind a real aircraft.

She still had to tell Sarah that she might have to spend one evening away. She’d thought that Sarah had become used to her traveling for work, but lately she had started to throw tantrums. For her fellow passengers’ sake she would wait until they disembarked the Airbus before breaking the news.

“Look, Mommy.” Sarah smiled at her.

Simone leaned over Sarah to peek out of the cabin window with her. Below them Dar es Salaam was a patchwork of shacks and dirt tracks, separated by the odd tar road. The rusty hues of the quilt were not misleading. Down there it was a chaotic Third World that pulsed with vibrant life. Coming back to Dar es Salaam after a break in a First World country always made her heart beat to a different rhythm.

She tore her eyes away from the landscape and leaned back in her seat. Once at the office, she would talk to whoever had changed the schedule. As much as she liked to keep her private life private, she might have to play the Sarah-card for the first time in three years to get her way.

As the Airbus landed, she switched on her phone.

Sarah squeezed her hand and Simone smiled at her. “Home sweet home.”

“Ruthie’s here?” Sarah questioned with her gray eyes, so different from her own. But Sarah’s rowdy blonde curls were as wild as Simone’s.

“Yes, she’s picking you up.”

Sarah beamed. “We go to beach?”

“Yes, darling.”

“But you put me bed tonight?” It was as if Sarah conjured a dark cloud in her gray eyes, their color intensifying.

Simone looked away. She didn’t want to go into the whole explanation right now. Why did it have to be so bloody difficult? She could only spread herself so thin, pleasing everyone at work, while being there for Sarah. The knot in her stomach tightened. It would be so much easier if she got the fleet management position. She hadn’t thought of a plan B yet, in case she didn’t get the promotion.

“I’m scheduled for a stay-over tonight.” She couldn’t fathom the idea of more than one night. “I think they’ve made a mistake. I’ll ask at the office if I can change it.” The chances were slim if she left Sarah out of the equation.

Sarah pouted, her lip trembling as if on command.

“Please, Sarah, let’s just get off the plane.”

Sarah seemed to understand that now wasn’t the time to push the issue as she turned to stare out of the window, still sulky, but distracted by the activity on the tarmac. Simone breathed out and checked her watch. She had ample time to get through customs, get their luggage and then catch a taxi to the first terminal, where the light aircraft departed and landed. She would have time to shower before flying her mystery flight for the day.

Simone gathered their things, and the two of them joined the crush of passengers waiting to disembark. As they stepped outside, the wall of humid heat settled on her skin in a sticky film. She pulled Sarah along, the heat wrapping around them like a blanket—too hot, but comfortable in its familiarity. After three years of expat life in Tanzania, Dar es Salaam had become home.

It had been such a subtle change that had crept up on her. Home is where the heart is. It was here where the bulk of her heart kept beating, despite being thoroughly broken four years ago. She’d returned three years ago as a single parent. With the US Dollar salary and most living expenses covered, she would have been stupid not to take a chance with Peppe after she’d had Sarah.

As they walked across the tarmac, her phone beeped through a text from Michael.

Prepare yourself for a shitshow. The big boss arrived yesterday and he isn’t a happy camper. I’m in the lounge.

She had no idea who the big boss was. For this branch of Carlevaro International the buck had always stopped with Peppe. Simone didn’t have time to contemplate this news further, because Sarah immediately set to asking where Ruth was. “Customs and luggage first, darling. Ruthie’s waiting on the other side.”

Sarah bounced along happily, oblivious to the heat. After the long journey, Sarah’s relentless energy worked on the nerves. The day was still long, and she had to be focused at work. With every step, she was emotionally detaching herself from her daughter. During their vacation they’d spent every minute together, and she disliked the inevitable separation. Hopefully, Sarah would grin and bear it.

They cleared customs, collected their luggage, and exited the terminal to meet with Ruth, who waited at their agreed meeting point close to the taxis.

With a joyful shriek Sarah was in her nanny’s arms, tugging at the older woman’s braids.

“You’re a blessing, Sarah missed you so much,” Simone said as she hugged Ruth close.

“I missed you too.” Ruth gave her a wide smile. She gestured at Simone’s heavy backpack. “Is that all you need?”

“Hope so.” Simone laughed. “Can you manage everything?” It was a silly question because Ruth always managed.

“Sarah can help. What do you say, honey?” Ruth put her down.

“Yes-yes-yes.” Sarah was trying to maneuver a suitcase in the direction of the parking lot.

It was time for a quick exit before Sarah noticed she’d be gone for the rest of the day.

Simone caught her daughter around the waist, planting a kiss on her chubby cheek. “I’ll see you later. Love you.” She glanced up at Ruth. “I’m scheduled for an overnight tonight, but I think the admin assistant made a mistake. I’ll let you know if I don’t manage to change it…otherwise I should be home by five.” Simone straightened up. “Be good, Sarah.”

“Bye-bye.” Sarah waved at her, and Simone walked away in the opposite direction. She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable wail. But Ruth had drawn Sarah into an enthusiastic conversation to distract her. Simone turned and followed their progress. She trusted Ruth to take care of Sarah. Her job would have been impossible if it weren’t for Ruth. Simone closed her eyes in a silent prayer of gratitude.

Twenty minutes later she rushed through the ill-lit corridor of the first terminal toward the Carlevaro Air staff lounge. She rolled her shoulders, consciously putting on her work face. Being back on Carlevaro turf made her rethink her strategy. For some reason she sensed she had to go around this flight schedule business with caution.

Two pilots sat in the staff lounge, killing time before their next flight. The lounge smelled dusty, and old, olive green couches circled a stained coffee table. A water cooler stood in the corner, and a double row of lockers lined one wall. The room was in stark contrast to the luxury safari lodges Carlevaro owned, putting the pilots right in their place.

She tossed her backpack on the couch next to Michael. “Hey, guys. Any news on how Peppe’s doing?”

“Hey, Sweet Cheeks.” Ross O’Connor gave her the once-over before carrying on with his phone.

She ignored Ross and looked expectantly at Michael for his response.

“No news since he got evacuated out of Tanzania,” Michael said, running his fingers through his cropped red hair and down his sunburnt face.

“A shipment of Carlevaros and hangers-on arrived yesterday to take over operations,” Ross said. His English held a more localized drawl, and he carried the deep tan of a white man who had lived in Africa for a long time.

She needed a sense of the lay of the land, for much hinged on Peppe’s return. “Any chance he’s coming back to work?” she asked.

Ross snorted. “The bloke’s sixty-five and had a heart attack. With all the money this place is churning, he could’ve retired a long time ago. Not sure why he didn’t. Personally, I plan for an early retirement.”

“Peppe loves his job,” she murmured, trying to calm her inner tremors. “He built most of the lodges Carlevaro has here, expanded the business. You don’t just let go like that.”

And I’ll miss him. Her stomach pulled tight at the thought. Peppe had given her a second chance. No other man would have employed a single mother with a six-month-old baby as a pilot. Peppe had taken her on without any questions when she’d asked for her old position with Carlevaro Air. He’d offered her the job on the promise that this time she’d stick around longer than the three-month probation period. He’d been unaware of the many ways in which he’d helped her. A knot jumped to her throat, swelling.

“I guess we’ll all miss Peppe. His nephew is taking over.” Ross slipped his mobile into his pocket. “Angelo.” He oozed the word with a mock Italian accent. “I believe that means angel. His brother, though, the CEO, looks like the devil himself.”

“Oh.” She swallowed, hoping for more pertinent details. The Italian family business would have a row of heirs waiting in line to take over operations. Someone new, who didn’t know her and her situation. Her hands stilled. “And the fleet management position?” She forced her voice to sound calm and tried to look uninterested, but her pulse fluttered in her neck, right where anyone who cared to look would see it skipping against her skin.

“No decisions yet,” Ross said. “Peppe would’ve made the promotion announcement this week. Now we have to go through another round with this new lot.”

Frustration grated in her. Peppe had had the candidates narrowed down to her and Ross. She had work experience and the support of the current fleet manager, who’d written an impeccable referral for her. For the past year, she’d worked every minute she could spare in the administration office to learn the ropes. Ross had a smooth tongue and an MBA.

“You’ve seen the updated schedule?” Ross pointed to the whiteboard.

“Yes.” She leaned closer to decipher the hard copy, which had more details than what she’d downloaded on her phone.

“A bit inconvenient, isn’t it?” Ross muttered as he came to stand next to her. He was as tall as her and scrawny. “I wouldn’t complain if I were you. Not everyone gets handpicked to fly the Carlevaro contingent across Tanzania on a private site inspection.”

She almost smiled at the bitterness lacing his voice, but was too annoyed by what he’d said.

“A stupid site inspection?” The words blurted out before she could stop them. She would be at their beck and call, flying from one lodge to the other, then waiting for them with nothing to do. And that with Sarah at home with Ruth, for three weeks. “Why must I fly them?”

“I think it was easier to just roll the schedule for another three weeks,” said Michael, standing on her other side, scratching his head. “This all happened last minute, so instead of shuffling everything to accommodate the Carlevaros, we’re all flying the same destinations for another three weeks and you got assigned to charter the big boss around. Worst of all, no one will be granted leave for the next month.”

She ignored his last sentence. “But the schedule—I’d possibly be away from home for three weeks. I have no clean clothes…” Her suitcases were gone with Ruth and she only had her uniform and what she was wearing.

Michael avoided her gaze. “We’re not in a position to say anything, Simone.”

Ross smiled, but his eyes were cold. What about Sarah? The question hovered between them. It was her against Ross. It was her against a company full of men. And they all felt the same. She had privileges none of them enjoyed, because of Sarah.

Had nobody mentioned Sarah to the new Carlevaro management? She ignored the niggly thought that the pilots and other employees had been speculating about her exact relationship with Peppe for the past three years.

No, this was a test, surely, of her commitment to the company. “How long is this stupid site inspection going to take?” Simone asked, more to herself than anybody in general.

“At least two weeks, more likely three, if they’re going to visit all their properties,” Ross answered. “It’s high season. They’re having problems sorting out their accommodation.” His tone said he was relishing every second of her anxiety, as if he’d already pocketed the promotion.

Worst-case scenario, she would be hopping from one lodge to the next, only returning to Dar es Salaam to refuel. She leaned closer to read the fine print in the orange blocks that hadn’t been included in her email version.

“I’m flying the DHC? Who is going to co-pilot this plane with me?” The De Havilland Canada DHC-6 Twin Otter was the biggest aircraft in the Carlevaro fleet. The other aircraft were Cessna Caravans or smaller, licensed to be flown by one pilot only.

“The CEO,” Ross said, hitching his eyebrows at her.

“What? The CEO?” This wasn’t getting any better. Now she’d have to smooch up to some hotshot for three weeks. Probably the big boss Michael kept referring to in ominous tones. An older Carlevaro, who’d been uprooted from his beach house in Thailand, or his penthouse in Singapore, possibly his little vineyard in Tuscany.

With the unfounded rumors of her and Peppe going around, she couldn’t afford to smooch up to anybody.

“Mr. C.F.L. Carlevaro. He has a commercial pilot’s license,” Ross said. “Apparently.”

“So why the hell doesn’t he fly them around himself?” she blurted out.

Michael snorted. “During high season it’s the only airplane we can shuffle around—”

“Ugh, Simone,” Ross muttered, “can’t you see the opportunity? You can prove yourself to them. If that fails, let your other assets do the job.”

His words bulldozed her and her stomach jolted. God. He was really implying she should sleep with the new boss to get promoted.

“Jeez, man.” Michael stepped in between them. “We’re all stressed about the situation, no need to be a dick about it.”

“Well, we all wonder why she got that nice apartment which the company pays for. Would be interesting to see if she gets to keep it under the new executive management.”

Heat crept up her neck and spread to her cheeks. She bit her tongue to keep back a stinging retort. She still didn’t understand how living a quiet life with her daughter, not mixing with the other expatriate staff, had resulted in her being rumored as Peppe’s bit-on-the-side.

Spending most of her working time with a bunch of cocksure men had made her immune to a lot of things, but Ross O’Connor had been trying to get under her skin and into her bed for some time. And now things were going sour at speed. The battle for promotion was on.

“Game on, Ross. I don’t feel threatened.” Unlike you. There was no other reason why he would’ve made that comment. She was a better candidate for the promotion than Ross and he knew it.

Michael’s hand was on her arm. “They’re starting off in Rufiji. That’s a short flight,” he said, to divert the conversation.

Exhaling, she turned her gaze away from Ross.

Her life was meticulously planned, her overnights arranged in advance with Ruth on a three-weekly basis with each new rotational schedule. It was a juggle, and keeping the balls in the air was possible as long as she knew what was coming. She wasn’t prepared for this mess, and only had one extra ironed uniform in her locker. She glanced at her backpack, wilted from two weeks of travel in the UK. Nothing in there was fit for an African safari.

“Get Ruth to pack some clothes for you and I can collect and forward them to the lodge by tomorrow, or the day after,” Michael said, as if he’d read her mind.

“Liz won’t mind doing your washing at Rufiji,” Ross said in a conciliatory tone, as if his previous comment had evaporated. He surely had a short attention span, but mentioning Liz, his sister, made her rethink her situation. Liz would be able to lend her some clothes.

Either way, three weeks were impossible. “I need to talk to the idiot who authorized the bloody schedule changes at the last minute.”

“That would be me.”

The voice spoke polished British English with a smidgen of an Italian accent. A chill of recognition shot down her back. She would’ve known that deep voice anywhere. She closed her eyes, begging it to be a dream, a trick of her imagination.

She swerved around in unison with Michael and Ross. A man leaned in the doorframe, looking as if he’d been there for ages. Tall, with broad shoulders, he wore a white short-sleeved shirt that revealed the slight brush of dark hair on his forearms. His black hair was short and sprinkled with gray at the temples. As Simone met his gaze her heart stuttered. Her pulse slowed in shock, then rushed with a burst of adrenaline.

Yet here he was. Carlo. The man who’d disappeared from her life four years ago.

Her gaze took in his face, comparing it to the memory that haunted her empty nights. He had a healthy tan, but wrinkles at the corners of his eyes spoke of more than days spent in the sun. Where four years ago the lines that cupped his mouth were often pulled into a laugh, they were now permanently set, like his frown, the lines burrowing deep. He was not to be messed with.

And those eyes, the color of a gray sea with a storm melting into it. Sarah’s eyes. She wanted to drop her gaze, scared of what he might read in her own eyes, but he stared at her blankly, as if he didn’t recognize her.

“Mr. Carlevaro,” Ross said. “This is Simone Levin, your pilot.”

Her tongue stuck to her palate in her suddenly parched mouth. Carlo hadn’t moved. His gaze still rested on her, taking all of her in, in a wordless greeting. A softness had settled around his mouth, but from his gaze…he was trying to conceal that he knew her. Had known her. Intimately.

She sensed he was doing her a favor by not acknowledging her in front of Ross and Michael. It had been the same four years ago…what they’d had, they’d kept to themselves. It had cost her dearly in the end.

Carlo pushed away from the doorframe, took a few steps toward them and stuck out his hand. A sharp pinch from Michael snapped her out of her flustered state, and she offered hers. Carlo’s hand was cool and dry, sending a tremor through her as he wrapped it around hers.

“Simone.”

“Mr…Carlevaro.” She cleared her throat as he let go. She couldn’t help but rub her sweaty palm against her jeans. Touching his cool skin had felt like a disgrace.

“I’m glad you’ve finally arrived.” Carlo’s gaze traveled over her face. It rested on her lips for a moment before it shot back to her eyes. “I want to take off in the next thirty minutes.”

Simone’s heart, which had, for those treacherous few seconds, stood still, started to pound.

“I just landed from a long-haul flight. I’d like to take a quick shower.”

Carlo raised an eyebrow. “A quick shower?” His gaze traveled over her body, mapping the route the water would take.

God, he remembered.

Heat rushed to her cheeks at the potent memories that flooded in her mind. Years ago, they had shared many showers that were everything but quick. She opened her mouth but no words came out.

“We’re waiting in the guest lounge.” With a nod to her companions he turned and strode out of the lounge.

Simone became aware of movement next to her.

“Yeah, he’s bloody intimidating,” said Michael in answer to something Ross had said.

“Snap out of it, Simone, you can’t let the CEO of Carlevaro International wait,” Ross said. “I bet he meets your exacting standards.”

“Go to hell, will you, Ross O’Connor.” Simone strode past him and grabbed her ironed uniform out of her locker with her work shoes. She resisted the temptation to slam the door when she entered the pilots’ restroom.