A Stirring from Salem by Sheri Anderson Page B

smiling.
    “And yes, there are two bedrooms.” Vince grinned. “Relieved?”
    “And why would I have to worry about you, Mr. Castle?” Charley answered directly.
    “Because my reputation precedes me?” he said with his eyes twinkling, making Charley a bit nervous.
    “Your bags are already in your closets, sir.” The gentle but beefy Sotho nodded as he indicated the larger room. “As are yours, Miss,” he added, nodding to the second room. “Whatever you need, just dial seven on the desk phone and you can reach me.”
    “The tips will be when we leave.” Vince directed that to Tuma in a somewhat dismissive tone. “Now we’ve got work to do.”
    “Remember to never leave the room without someone with you,” Tuma reminded them both firmly. “A ranger at a nearby camp was killed by a lion three weeks ago when he ventured to another bungalow on his own.”
    “Guess he should have remembered his gun,” Vince said cavalierly.
    “We’ll be gathering in the main lounge at five for cocktails before tonight’s game drive,” Tuma said, ignoring the comment. “If you wish to be there, just let us know.”
    “We’re working, pal,” Vince said curtly. “But when we need you, we’ll dial seven.”
    Tuma nodded and left quietly.
    There was the ping of a text on Vince’s phone. He glanced at it and then put his phone on the table.
    “The client again…still not happy,” he said with purpose. “Too bad we’re busy. And I’m gonna take a dip in the pool and grab a shower before we get to it. Oh, and enough of that Mr. Castle crap. Mr. Castle is my grandfather.”
    Charley nodded, “Got it.”
    “Vince—?”
    “Vince,” she said with a bit of difficulty. Having been brought up in prep schools, she was accustomed to calling her elders and bosses by their formal names. But he was the boss, after all, so “Vince” it would be.
    “And get on that Internet disaster,” Vince called to her as he disappeared into his room.
    ***
    Charley was remarkably impressed with her room as she entered. High-beamed ceilings with wrought-iron chandeliers and a ceiling fan. Comfortable down sofas covered with heavy white cotton covers and a beautiful king-sized bed with four posters. And a sheer white canopy as protection from flying insects, of which there were plenty. Africa is gorgeous, she mused, but nature still reigns.
    Charley put her OMG handbag on the dark wood desk and removed the production binder. She also pulled out the bound album she’d brought with her.
    Her hand lingered on the Christmas gift she had not yet opened.
    First this, she said to herself. Then they show up here?
    A beautiful diffused photo of John and Marlena and the words “Our Beautiful Family” graced the cover of the glossy hardcover book.
    Charley ran her finger across the title. She felt torn inside.
    You’re lovely people. But Jackson and Chance are my family.
    The moment was broken when she heard a splash in the private pool just outside her room. She looked up to see Vince coming out of the water. Behind him, Charley could see a pair of elephants less than twenty feet from the pool, munching low leaves from one of the sprawling indigenous trees.
    Vince shook his long, wavy locks to get them out of his eyes. Then he perched on the side of the pool and gazed out across the high grass rimming the property. He was stark naked. He silently watched the massive, gray hulks that were oblivious to him.
    Jolted back to reality, Charley got to work. Fortunately, she’d spent enough time on photo shoots and the beaches in the South of France that Vince’s nudity didn’t faze her.
    ***
    Abby was just digging into her wild mushroom gnocchi when her phone rang. Jackson was sitting across the table from her on the terrace at Soho House, one of the few outdoor restaurants in London that was open during the winter when weather permitted. A private club that catered to the media, entertainment, and publishing, Soho House was also popular with the