Milfs Like It Big - Veronica Avluv - Mistress P.i. Page

"Sit down, Veronica," she purred. "I knew you'd figure it out. You're the best."

I stood up, tucking the envelope into my purse. "Give me three days."

"No, Miss Avluv." Her voice was a low contralto. "He's stealing something far more valuable. My reputation."

I was making one of my own.

My office smelled of stale coffee and cheaper regret. The sign on the frosted glass read Veronica Avluv – Private Investigations – Discretion Guaranteed . Discretion. In this town, that was a commodity more valuable than gold.

As I walked out of The Velvet Key , the rain had stopped. The city was still filthy. But for the first time in a long time, I wasn't just cleaning up other people's messes.

I raised an eyebrow. "You want me to prove you weren't there?" Milfs Like it Big - Veronica Avluv - Mistress P.I.

"Was me, of course." She signaled the waiter for two glasses of champagne. "Mark is my lover. Has been for six months. But my husband, his father, is a vindictive man. If he finds out, he'll cut Mark off completely. And me? I'll lose everything in the divorce."

Diana Whitmore was a vision of controlled fire. Forty-seven, silver-threaded black hair pulled into a severe bun, a dress that cost more than my car. But her eyes—green, sharp, hungry—told a different story.

The rain in Los Angeles washed nothing clean. It just made the grime gleam. "Sit down, Veronica," she purred

"Mrs. Whitmore," I said, leaning back in my worn leather chair. "You believe your husband's son is... what, exactly? Stealing your jewelry?"

"So you hired me to investigate... yourself?"