Free [BAD 07] - Silent Truth by Sherrilyn Kenyon

would curse his luck that Lydia was in attendance tonight. She’d normally be off on her father’s yacht cruising the Greek isles or working on a deeper tan to set off the sheet of black hair she wore like a queen’s mantle.
    He did curse his stupidity for allowing his dick to convince him to let Lydia into his hotel room—once—a couple years ago.
    In fairness to his libido, that had been before Lydia turned into a cosmetic surgeon’s wet dream, and she’d seemed like a perfect choice for one night. He hadn’t been with a woman in months and she showed up at his door wearing a fuck-me-where-I-stand dress.
    He’d been on the receiving end of Lydia’s viper attitude since making it clear he wanted no repeat of their one night together.
    Especially after he’d found out the next day that she leaked to the damned media that she’d spent the night with a Thornton-Payne. Lydia had used him to stir up jealousy in a rock star she hadn’t been able to close the deal with.
    Women and their agendas.
    “Is everything all right?” the security guard, Carlos Delgado, inquired in a firm voice.
    Hunter had forgotten the BAD agent was present.
    “Everything’s fine.” He shot a hard glance at Carlos.
    “No harm, no foul,” the woman next to Hunter muttered, surprising him when she spoke. She drew her shoulders back and smiled with withering politeness. “Nice meeting you, Lydia. Gotta go.”
    She had spirit, something Lydia and most of the women he encountered at these places lacked.
    He met Lydia’s eyes and sharpened his with a warning that if she didn’t retract her claws she’d leave licking her wounds. When Curly Locks turned to walk away, he moved his hand to her back. “More champagne?”
    “No, thanks.” She stepped up her pace, pulling away from his touch.
    He lengthened his stride and caught up, placing his hand at the small of her back again.
    She cocked her head, sending him a look that questioned his motives. “An old girlfriend?”
    “Old nuisance.” He saw a pocket of space with a semblance of privacy. “Let’s step over there for a minute.”
    “Why?”
    “To talk.”
    She slowed. “Look, thanks for your help, but you can go now.”
    Her apologetic tone harbored an insinuation that she was inconveniencing him. He was stunned. Didn’t she realize half this room would notice if he walked away from her now?
    And the other half would hear about it by the end of the night.
    “Humor me for a few minutes.” Hunter continued guiding her through breaks in the crowd, lifting his chin at familiar faces and inclining his head at others.
    A scent teased his nose. Something fresh and differentthat didn’t belong here among custom-blended perfumes.
    He realized he was leaning closer to inhale a deeper breath and stopped himself before he gave anyone reason to think something really was going on between them.
    Her curls bobbed with each step. Not professional hairstyling, but he liked the natural way she’d piled up the ringlets and used a sequined clasp to tame the rowdy mass.
    She’d shown backbone, manners… and not a clue she’d been in danger of getting clawed. This one might have held her own under Lydia’s attack for a few more minutes, but she wouldn’t have for long.
    Not a normal, everyday woman. A nice girl.
    When he reached a giant bronze planter abutting a short wall that provided some privacy, Curly Locks took an extra step, then turned on him.
    “Why did you do that? Act like you knew me?” she asked in a voice so loaded with suspicion he should be ducking for cover.
    Of course, he’d be asking the same question in her shoes.
    Hunter lifted a hand in dismissal. “Lydia lives for confrontation, regardless of collateral damage. She clearly stepped into your path. Once her head makes a full rotation she’s hard to bring back down to earth. Just figured I could defuse the situation before it got out of hand.”
    “Why? You probably downgraded your social standing in the