For someone who'd spent a lot of time in Italy whenever he made his way over there, Italian was one of the languages in Caesar's list that he was quite fluent in.
Aggressively, he let go and watched as Suarez plopped to the floor, unconscious.
"Oh, fuck it! Now, we have to take him to the hospital and switch to a different room," Mr. Valentino grunted, storming out of the room to go call for the hostess.
Caesar couldn't care less. He instead moved over to Adeline, who was still glued to her spot, unmoving.
Was it always that violent? The meeting hadn't even started, and they—
Her smaller frame was pulled into a warm hug before she could realize it. It was Caesar, his smell was everywhere, clouding her senses.
He'd buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent over and over again as if it were the only thing that could calm him down.