Milfs Like It Big - Veronica Avluv - Mistress P.i. [Trending]

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

"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."

I picked up the envelope.

She reached across the table, her fingers tracing the back of my hand. "I hired you to see if you were as clever as they say. And to offer you a different job." Milfs Like it Big - Veronica Avluv - Mistress P.I.

Diana Whitmore smiled, and for the first time, it reached her eyes. "I want everything, Veronica. And I like it... big."

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.

His name was Mark. Young, maybe twenty-five, with the kind of nervous energy that screamed he was in over his head. But he wasn't the target. His stepmother was. I stood up, tucking the envelope into my purse

I was making one of my own.

Her other hand slid a thick envelope across the table. "I need evidence of my husband's infidelity. He's been seeing a woman in Santa Monica. Get me that, and I get my settlement. Mark and I can live well. And you?" She leaned closer, her breath warm on my ear. "You get to watch."

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

The case was a standard cheating husband. Follow the man in the gray suit to the motel, snap the photos, collect the check. Boring. Until it wasn't.

The rain in Los Angeles washed nothing clean. It just made the grime gleam.

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

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

I took the case. Not for the money—though it was good. I took it because I recognized the lie. Diana Whitmore wasn't a victim. She was a chess player, and I was a pawn.