Perfect Mistake

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Simone fled to the kitchen. Dealing with Carlo was enough; having to deal with his brother, a charmer, would be more than she could handle. Especially not with Carlo’s silent presence, watching her every move, analyzing it, as if she had somehow overstepped the boundaries by talking to Angelo.

Maybe she had. She swallowed at the thought. Angelo was Carlo’s brother and he was going to manage Carlevaro East Africa. A stab of fear shot through her and she paused outside the kitchen door. If Angelo found out about Sarah and told Carlo… To Angelo her little girl could have been fathered by anybody, but Carlo had a sharp mind and did math for breakfast. A simple thing like Sarah’s date of birth would give her away.

She slumped into the kitchen, where she found Liz surrounded by her four assistants.

“Try this, will you?” She pushed a spoon with soup into Simone’s hand. “It’s gazpacho. I cringe at the thought.”

Simone tasted. “At least you haven’t lost your touch, it’s yummy.”

“Phew,” Liz said, turning to the kitchen assistants, giving them a rush of instructions in Swahili. “How was the meeting?”

Simone scanned the kitchen and pursed her lips. There was no way she could bring the topic of discussion up in front of the kitchen staff. James would fill Liz in. “Fine. They gave us some interesting stats on the lodge.”

“Oh. How dull,” Liz said, “So, how’re we doing?”

“Just great.” There was a pinch of sarcasm in her voice, but Liz didn’t pick up on it as she took fresh bread rolls out of the oven.

She couldn’t get her head around Carlo’s disclosure. Poaching and trafficking were crimes and serious enough to put every other employee’s livelihood at stake. If Carlevaro East Africa closed shop, more than a thousand people would lose their jobs. A domino effect would spill over to the reserves where they had lodges, and at the thought of the animals involved her stomach tightened. The Carlevaro conservation philosophy was the reason she worked for the company. Companies like Carlevaro were often the last barrier between animals and their extinction. What was Liz’s view on conservation? No one worked in the bush without having or obtaining a deep love for it.

Simone leaned against the counter, picking up a bread roll. Breaking it open, it steamed out some heat and she nibbled at it, trying to digest what had happened that day.

“Do you want anything else with that?”

“No thank you, I—”

“You’ve eaten nothing today. Not pregnant too, are you?” Liz joked, winking at her. She had hardly uttered the words when she snapped her mouth shut, eyes widening as she stared at the kitchen door. Simone’s hair on her back stood on end. Only one person could shock Liz into subordinated silence.

“Can we help you?” Liz asked before turning away, getting busy with some plates on another counter.

“You’re having dinner in the kitchen,” Carlo said.

“Sort of,” Simone retorted with defiance. He could command her to join the group for dinner, and they both knew it. He just had to ask nicely; he was the big boss, after all. One did not say no.

“When you’re done here,” he said in a level tone, waving at the kitchen in general, “meet me outside, Simone.” He turned on his heel and was out of the kitchen before she’d even registered that he was there.

She watched the kitchen door stop its pendulum swing. There was a tangible silence as the kitchen staff, horrified at having the CEO of the company in their domain, held their breaths. She read consternation on everyone’s faces—what if Carlo Carlevaro walked back in? A minute passed before a collective sigh of relief escaped and everyone scrambled on with what they had been doing before Carlo had marched in uninvited.

“Blimey. I know it’s his kitchen but he could give a girl a bit of warning,” Liz spat out as she continued clattering plates around.

Liz’s gaze bore through her and Simone could read her mind. Before falling into besotted love with James, Liz had not been shy about opening her legs to anything half handsome and male. Working with a bunch of men, she’d known Liz by reputation before she’d even had a chance to meet her. To Liz, Carlo’s words just now had probably sounded a lot like come naked and be quick about it. Simone sighed. She hoped Liz knew her better by now. She was not the bed-hopping type.

“I wouldn’t keep him waiting. By the look he gave you you’re knee-deep in it,” Liz scolded, when Simone still stood glued to the counter.

“Any chance you need someone to wash dishes?” Simone begged, wishing for any excuse to avoid Carlo. As she left the kitchen she repeated her mantra about not letting him get under her skin.

****

Simone walked into the guest lounge, her eyes adjusting to the darker interior. The lounge was decorated in the opulent colonial style of the later explorers. Persian carpets covered the wooden floors, cozy reading corners were cordoned off with wing chairs and sofas, and a billiards table stood under an elaborate stained glass light. An antique glass bookcase with Africana graced one canvas wall.

Carlo stood by the bookcase, studying its contents in the twilight. A waiter padded through the lounge, lighting and hanging lamps.

Simone went to stand next to him. “Why am I here?”

He turned to her. The dark shadows under his eyes were somehow more accentuated in the play of lamplight than in the bright sunshine.

“Let’s talk somewhere else,” he said.

“Where do you suggest? The guests are bound to arrive soon and you know we can’t walk around by ourselves after dark.”

“Come to my room.”

She inhaled sharply, her hands clenching into fists. “Is that why I’m here? Do you really think—”

With a soft groan, he curled his fingers around her arm and pulled her onto the deck, away from the other people sitting in the lounge. None of them had noticed their interchange. Noel Peters was talking to the woman in the zebra scarf. Further away Angelo leaned over the deck’s railing with his back to her, a drink in his hand, talking to Dino and James.

“To your room then,” he whispered, “although I much prefer mine. And no scenes, if you please.” His hand was a ring of fire around her arm, propelling her to the wooden walkway.

“Askari,” Carlo called to the security guard, who escorted guests to their tents after dark, and kept an eye out for any animals entering the camp. The tall man in the Maasai dress of rich, red-colored fabric stepped out of the dark, torch in hand.

“To the staff camp, please,” Carlo ordered softly. After a few steps he let go of her arm and she exhaled, forcing her shoulders to drop their square stance.

“That was unnecessary,” she said as she rubbed her arm. He hadn’t hurt her, but the feeling was there, his touch burning.

“I’m not so sure.”

He walked next to her, but she kept her eyes on the torchlight that swayed left and right into the darkness, catching the glimmer of any animal eyes that might be watching them.

She stopped short a few steps from Carlo when they arrived at her tent. “I don’t care who hears this. If you think we’re going to carry on where we left off four years ago you are very much mistaken.”

He didn’t blink an eye. Instead, he turned to the askari and asked him to come back in fifteen minutes. The man sauntered off, leaving them alone, with Carlo glaring at her. A slow heat kindled to life in his eyes as his gaze traveled over her. He lowered his lids, barely hiding the smoldering look that made her glow deep in her core. “You seem to be singularly one-track-minded, Simone.”

Heat rose to her cheeks; it spread down her chest to her treacherous heart, which pounded at the thought of him. Why was he still able to do this to her? Being alone with him was the worst possible idea.

“Well, if not for that, why march me to my tent as if you would have your way—”

“Now you make me sound like a libertino. You may still be devilishly tempting, Simone, but now that I’m your boss you’re completely off limits.”

She stood frozen outside the tent as he zipped it open in one swift jerk and disappeared into the dark interior. And how exactly did that happen, she wanted to shout at him. He murmured some Italian under his breath but she caught his last words, in English, as if he intended her to hear them. “It makes life so much easier.”

He came out with the folding chair and placed it next to the one under the vestibule of the tent.

The full extent of his words hit her and her racing heart stalled. His last words had either been a compliment or a set-down.

She hadn’t asked him here. Did he just put her in her place, as if she’d made eyes at the boss and HR called her in for a disciplinary hearing? She brushed her hair out of her face and slumped into the camping chair, utterly rebellious, but too stunned to do anything else.

“Now, if we were in my tent, we could’ve raided the mini bar and this would’ve been much more civilized,” he said as he sat down.

She shook her head, exhaling. “Don’t snub your own shitty staff accommodation. Knowing that you used to stay here yourself, you could’ve done something about it by now.”

“It’s on the to-do list.”

“Clearly at the bottom end of it.” She put as much bite as she could into her last words.

He chuckled, then sighed, as he dropped back deeper into the chair to gaze at the stars glittering in the sky. “From here nothing looks shitty at all.”

He seemed so relaxed; it took the wind out of her sails. She closed her eyes and let the sounds of the bush penetrate her buzzing mind and slow her drumming heart. Something scuttled through the tall grass on the outskirts of the camp, and somewhere an owl hooted. She inhaled deeply to calm her nerves, but instead she took a deep breath of his intoxicating maleness, laced with espresso and his aftershave. This was so like the old days. Any moment he would reach out for her hand to lace his fingers with hers. Tears were closer than she cared to admit but she swallowed them down.

“Why did you apply for the fleet management position?”

His question catapulted her out of her moment of reverie. How had he stumbled upon the one question, which would make her reveal all, within just two minutes? She wasn’t scared of Carlo, but she was weary of what he could do to her heart. And then to Sarah, once the truth was out.

She had to buy time, to gather her scattered nerves. She glanced at him. “Is this an interview?”

“No, I’m curious.”

She clenched her teeth and racked her brain for any answer that would quiet him. “I need a change, a new challenge.”

He said nothing. She chewed her lip, sensing that he wasn’t satisfied with her answer. “I plan to settle down at some point and flying isn’t a family-friendly occupation.” There, the truth was half-out. Did she have to be so bloody weak? She could almost hear Gabi saying the words.

“That’s debatable. It will depend on your husband.”

“Not once there are children involved.” She nearly spat out the answer, for what would he know about it?

He shrugged. “Possibly.”

The relief drained her. She regurgitated his every word to see if he’d somehow learned about Sarah. If he’d known it would have surfaced by now.

He shifted in his chair and the gravel on the ground crunched underneath his weight. “Are you seeing someone?”

The question caught her off guard. “I…no. Not at the moment.”

He cleared his throat. “I suppose we all have our five-year plan.”

Yes, and mine didn’t involve ever bumping into you again.

“Simone.” He sighed. “You are the only person on the pilot payroll I still know and can rely on. With the exception of the management couples at some of our lodges and older staff, people who’ve been with us for ages and who share the Carlevaro passion, there is no one else I can trust.”

She turned to face him; the topic had changed very quickly, but she instinctively knew where he was heading. Getting off personal turf was essential, and she went with the flow. “Surely you don’t think I’m involved in this poaching syndicate?”

“No—” He hesitated. “But you’re the only person I know and trust in Carlevaro Air.”

“You think you know me? Time changes people.” Except if you never knew them in the first place.

He groaned. “Don’t make this personal, it’s about the business.”

She bit on her tongue to fight the tears and the simultaneous urge to slap him. He’d just poked around her private life and now he was accusing her of making it personal. It was personal. Half of her wanted to have it out with him, to tell him in detail what had happened in his four-year absence from her life; the other half wanted to grab her daughter and run.

“Do you know of anybody that could be involved in this? Someone who has been acting strangely? Anything, really?”

His questions ripped her back to reality. “No.” She’d been wondering the same thing.

“Think about it. We have twenty-two pilots on our payroll. At least one of them must be involved.”

“I can’t think of anybody.”

“You hang out with these people, you live with them.” He was raking his hand through his hair.

“No, I don’t.”

Carlo turned to her with a questioning look.

“I no longer live in the pilots’ digs, and I don’t socialize with them anymore,” Simone said.

“Why not?”

“Peppe authorized alternative accommodation since I’m the only woman on the team.”

“He never passed that by me.” He paused. “Not that he would have. Where are you staying?”

“In a new block of flats next to the Hilton Hotel. It overlooks the yacht club and the sea.”

Carlo frowned. “It must cost the company a bloody fortune.”

She bristled. “It’s worth every cent to me not to be surrounded by a bunch of horny bastards who think all I’m good for is a quick fuck.”

Shock registered in his eyes. She never used to swear. Initially living and forever working at close quarters with a bunch of men had rubbed off on her. Talking about sex in such a degrading way had also never been part of her vocabulary. Neither had it been her experience with him for those six weeks, irrespective of what she’d convinced herself of afterward. When had she become like this?

He tilted his head in question, frowning. His eyelids closed further as he leaned toward her. “That’s what it was like for you? When we were together?” He cursed. “It explains a lot.”

She didn’t want to go there, and yet she wanted to go there. But not now, not like this. Her heart was in her throat, constricting her breathing with every thud.

The torchlight of the askari swung its way toward them.

“Wasn’t it for you?” she asked as she stood up. She dashed into the tent and zipped it closed. His chair scraped on the gravel and indented the canvas as he shot up. He murmured something in Italian she equated with her own awful words. She closed her eyes and waited until she heard two pairs of footsteps go down the path. Silent tears streamed down her face. Only when she could hear them no more did she sob, releasing the pressure in her chest.