Limoncello Yellow (Franki Amato Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page B

stop calling me 'babe.' And second, don't try to make it sound like cheating is a normal part of a relationship. I don't have to accept womanizing, and I'm not going to."
    " Yeah, because you're so damned perfect, aren't you? It's time to grow up and deal with reality instead of running away from your problems to New Orleans like a child."
    " Wait. How the hell did you know I left Austin? Have you been spying on me or something?"
    " Of course not! When you wouldn't answer my calls I got worried, so I called nonna Carmela. She told me you'd moved."
    I 'm sure she also told you to remind me that I wasn't getting any younger and that zitelle couldn't be choosers , I thought. "Vince, please leave my family out of this. This is between you and me—at least it was . There's no you and me anymore. Not now, not ever."
    " So, you're going to throw away everything we had over a few indiscretions?"
    " We're not talking about little indiscretions. They're huge betrayals. And yes, I most certainly am," I said, immensely proud of myself for holding my ground. I had a bad history of looking the other way where men were concerned. But not this time.
    " Okay. If that's what you want, you've got it. You won't hear from me again. But let me make something real clear: If you're waiting for Prince Charming or for a knight in shining armor, he ain't gonna come. Especially not at your age. So you'd best think about that long and hard, principessa , or you're gonna end up old and alone."
    Before I could respond, Vince hung up. I lay there in bed with the phone frozen to my ear. Not even a minute before I 'd been so proud of myself, thinking that I'd come a long way from the insecure woman who would forgive a man practically anything. Then in ten seconds flat Vince had reduced me to a stubborn, old-fashioned zitella with one foot in the grave—make that the cemetery across the street. And suddenly, all of my insecurities came rushing back.
    I tossed and turned for the rest of the night thinking about that phone call. I certainly didn 't think I was waiting for a fairy-tale guy. I mean, I'd dated Vince, right? But the hard truth was that every relationship I'd ever been in had ended in disaster. And after spending roughly half my life dating unsuccessfully, it was sure starting to look like I might have some sort of problem. The question was, did I come to New Orleans to solve my problem or run away from it?

C HAPTER THREE
     
     
    At 8:30 the next morning, I was feeling both excited and anxious as I got ready to leave for my first day on the job. Most of all, I couldn 't wait to see my new office. Before establishing Private Chicks, Inc. two years ago, Veronica had settled a personal injury case fresh out of Tulane Law School that netted her a cool one point five million after taxes. Calling that payout her "ticket out of law," she had paid off her student loans, maxed out her 401K, bought the Audi, and put a huge down payment on an old office building at 1200 Decatur Street. For me, the thought of sitting at a desk in that building in the French Quarter next to my best friend—as opposed to sitting in a smelly squad car with Stan—was exhilarating. But I was also nervous because I wasn't sure how I was going to handle the freedom of working as a PI after the rigid schedule and structure of police work. Would I actually get any work done? Or would I just sit at the nearby Cafè du Monde drinking chicory coffee and stuffing my face full of beignets?
    As I fantasized about becoming thin enough from all of my investigative legwork to eat a half-dozen or so of the yummy little pastries—with extra powdered sugar—on a daily basis, I was rudely interrupted by a knock at my door.
    "Ready?" Veronica sauntered into my apartment. She was wearing a pink and black Chanel suit with a vintage black Chanel handbag. "Today's a big day for us. I just got a call from a new client. He's going to meet us at four o'clock."
    " Who is he?"