Okay, so she only had one choice.
Samantha never did anything half way. When she was in, she was full tilt, balls-to-the-wall, no holds barred in. And loving Caleb, whether he returned her affection or not, meant she had to set aside her insecurities. He knew her deepest secret, knew what she’d been through, and she had to believe he wouldn’t betray her trust.
Besides, she wasn’t in any danger. Vincent didn’t get to his position in life by being stupid. He’d sought her out for a reason. No harm in hearing him out, right?
Samantha turned to Vincent. Even in her heels, she had to lift her chin to make eye contact. His eyes were cold, eerily dark and void of emotion. His thick, neatly trimmed eyebrows and black hair were sprinkled with gray. His face was lightly tanned and wrinkle-free. In his dark navy suit, he gave off the air of a distinguished gentleman.
Another wolf.
“Why, Mr. Matteo.” Samantha exaggerated her Southern drawl. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”
“I make it my business to know all of my wife’s friends.” His statement sounded more like a warning.
“You’ve remarried? I hadn’t heard.”
Her dig missed its mark and Vincent smiled, setting her on edge. “I’ve never been divorced, Miss Quinn. You should know that better than anyone. Well, except myself and my darling wife, that is.”
Samantha didn’t like the way he stared at her. He was bluffing. He had to be, but she wouldn’t rest until she knew for sure. She’d sneak to the ladies room and call Carlotta just as soon as she could get away from this asshole.
His gaze traveled down her body. “Has someone been dipping into daddy’s money, my dear? I don’t understand a woman’s need to buy such outrageously expensive garments. Not to mention the shoes.” He glanced at her feet. “I don’t relish feeling the bite of those heels on my feet tonight, dear. Do be careful.”
Samantha gave him a sweet smile, the first indication of her rising temper. The insinuation she’d take anything from her father made her sick to her stomach. “With all due respect, Mr. Matteo, fuck off. Unless you’ve got a specific reason for this visit, I’ve endured your company enough for one evening.”
Rat bastard.
She pulled a glass from the tray of a passing server. What she wouldn’t give for a shot or two of her favorite cinnamon whiskey to calm her nerves. Unfortunately, her choices were wine or champagne, neither of which she cared much for. If Vincent wanted to feign outrage at something overpriced, he should start by yelling at the party planner about the wine. This was a fundraiser for chrissake. They were supposed to raise money, not spend it on fancy-schmancy food and drinks.
Another reason she’d usually shied away from this kind of thing.
Vincent raised an eyebrow. “You and I have a few things to discuss. Come, join me for a dance. I won’t keep you long.” His eyes cut toward Caleb. “I’d imagine our time together this evening is limited.”
“For the love of … give me one good reason why I should dance with you.” Worry for Carlotta and the mention of her father had her temper frayed to the thinnest of threads. One wrong move, one cross look, and she was going to blow.
“Please, dear. Let’s not make a scene. It’s bad for business.” Vincent held his hand out expectantly.
Pure curiosity forced her to set down her glass and place her hand in his. Sam grimaced when the cold, clammy flesh wrapped a little too tightly around her as he led her to the floor.
“I can’t imagine what business you think you have with me.”
She cast a glance at Caleb. Everyone in his group was talking at once. Knowing he was close, Samantha felt confident as she turned her attention back to Vincent.
“Let’s get one thing straight. If we were anywhere else, I’d be shoving my outrageously expensive pumps up that arrogant ass of yours.”
“You’ve got quite a mouth,” Vincent turned and yanked her close against his body. “Someone should really see to that.”
Samantha jerked from his grip and smoothed her hands down her dress. “It would take more man than you, I can promise you that.”
His cheeks mottled red at her insult. “And the man who accompanied you tonight—Caleb Martin, is it? Is he such a man?”
“He’s more man that you’ll ever hope to be.”
Vincent tilted his head, studying her. “Is that so? I suppose you also believe our meeting here is a coincidence.” Humor lightened his eyes. “Don’t fool yourself, Samantha. It’s unbecoming an intelligent woman such as yourself.”
Samantha bit the inside of her cheek, desperate to distract herself from the urge to knock that smug look right off his face. “You’re delusional. I had no idea you’d be here tonight. If I had, I may have changed my mind about attending.”