NICK
Idon’t think I’ve ever been this spent in my life. I never realized how great makeup sex could be—probably because I’ve never had to make up for my asshole ways before. But after Josh dropped off Melanie’s suitcase, I devoured Melanie like a man starving. First in the kitchen. Then in the shower. Then again, on the couch, where she fell asleep in my arms. This morning, I woke up to her riding me, her hands braced against my chest, breathless and desperate.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice raw with need. “Give me what I need.”
And what kind of husband would I be if I didn’t deliver?
Now, as I stand at the stove making her a light brunch, she’s curled up on the couch, looking content but utterly spent.
“You checked your blood sugar, right?” I ask, flipping an egg.
“Yes, Captain Controlling.”
I glance over my shoulder. “After all the orgasms I gave you, you’re more susceptible to passing out.”
She rolls her eyes, but the corner of her lips twitches. Before I can fire back, a sharp knock rattles the door.
Not just a knock. A deliberate one. The kind that sends a warning straight down my spine.
Melanie glances up, tucking her legs under her. “Expecting someone?”
I shake my head, setting the spatula down and turning off the burner. “No.”
Another knock—louder this time. Not impatient. Just… official. I cross the room and yank the door open. Two men in dark suits stand on my porch, their posture rigid, military-grade. The taller one lifts a badge.
“Special Agent Carter, Army Criminal Investigation Division. This is Agent Mills.”
ACID.
I feel Melanie sit up behind me, the air in the room shifting, thickening. Carter’s expression doesn’t change. “We need to talk. It’s about your marriage.”
Melanie pushes off the couch, crossing her arms. “Our marriage?”
Mills barely spares her a glance. “We have reason to believe it’s fraudulent.”
A beat of silence.
Then I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You’re serious?”
Carter doesn’t blink. “Very.”
My jaw tightens, but I step aside. “Then come on in.”
They move with precision, stepping into my house like they already own the place. Melanie lingers close to me as I shut the door, and I can feel the tension rolling off her in waves.
Carter flips open a folder. “Niccolo Consele, staff sergeant and tier one operator, United States Army. Married Melanie Thompson three months ago. Shortly after, she was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes and started incurring medical debt, right after working at your restaurant.” He lifts his gaze, eyes sharp. “Interesting timing.”
I fold my arms. “So what?”
Mills gives a tight smile. “So, you receive BAH, medical benefits, and additional entitlements because of this marriage. And yet, before that? No engagement. No history of a serious relationship. Just two strangers—coworkers—suddenly husband and wife, right when she needed financial help.”
Melanie’s hands curl into fists at her sides.
Carter turns to her. “Tell me, Ms. Thompson, where did your husband propose?”
She lifts her chin. “It’s Mrs. Consele, sir. And Nick proposed in Las Vegas. On a trip we took together first as friends, but we fell in love.”
Carter’s lips twitch. “How convenient. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” His voice is laced with something that makes my skin itch. “And how long were you dating before that?”
