Dear Ex-wife Marry Me novel (Maja) novel Chapter 1349

Fitch's place was a stone's throw from the edge of another city, miles away from the bustling downtown of Greenfield.

The ferry had docked there specifically for a visit to Fitch.

Ian nodded in acknowledgment, promptly stepping off the boat and into the waiting car outside.

Upon reaching the villa, he entered alone.

Abner had reluctantly handed over the keycard, and though his reluctance was palpable, Ian didn’t give a damn and snatched the card away.

Abner shot him a cold glance, as if he'd been on the verge of throwing a punch more than once.

Ian ignored him and walked straight into the villa's grand hall.

The place was deserted, so he made his way upstairs, under the assumption that Fitch was convalescing.

But as soon as Ian reached the hallway, he heard a woman's voice.

“Stop, Fitch, please, I’m really exhausted.”

“Just a little longer.”

Zoey's forehead was slick with sweat, her breath hitched from his kisses, feeling like she was drowning.

Fitch was donning a suit she brought from Greenfield. The fabric wasn’t as fine as his own, but he looked inexplicably dashing in it.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, strength waning, she relied solely on his firm grip.

The room’s door was ajar – after all, there were no strangers in the villa besides them.

“Can you hurry up? I can’t take much more.”

“Hmm? Still thinking of getting a divorce?”

Zoey fell silent. Fitch was convinced they were going through a divorce, and she knew denying their relationship meant he would continue until she was too weak to stand.

Resigned, she cast her eyes down, pleading, “No divorce, I mean it, no divorce.”

Satisfied, Fitch deepened their kiss for a few more minutes before breaking away.

Ian had stepped outside the corridor to smoke a couple of cigarettes. Initially, he felt relieved upon hearing the sounds, a sign that Fitch's injuries were healing. Then, he felt a pang of sarcasm, not expecting Fitch to be so indulgent with a woman. But soon, something felt off, as the two were clearly kissing.

She clamped her hands over her face, mortified by the nonsense she had just spouted with Fitch, wishing she could vanish into thin air.

“Mr. Haskins, this is, this is your friend, let me go!”

She struggled to escape but heard Ian say, “Let’s talk downstairs. I have some questions for you both.”

His tone was indifferent, his gaze lingering on Fitch's face.

Fitch met his stare nonchalantly, releasing Zoey.

Zoey hurried inside to change into something more appropriate, wrapping a scarf tightly around her neck.

Fitch, fearless as ever, still wore the slightly wrinkled suit.

As Zoey descended, she wished she could sink into the floor, too ashamed to meet Ian's eyes.

Ian was already seated on the sofa. “What’s going on with her?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Fitch frowned, “Be nice to her, will you?”