Aftershock. Sylvia Day

      “Hey,” Angelo greeted me, returning his attention to his game. “How was Hotlanta?”

      “Hot,” I said wryly, turning to pull the door closed behind me. The apartment smelled like bacon, and I could see the remnants of breakfast on the counter and sink. The guys were too used to having dishwashers take care of things at Rossi’s.

      “You got the day off?” Vincent asked, strolling over. Dressed in shorts and nothing else, he reminded me why my high school friends had been so eager to come over to my house all the time.

      “Nah. I gotta show up,” I said. “Just wanted to drop off my stuff.”

      “Get your ass back over here,” Angelo muttered. “I’m getting slaughtered by these freaks.”

      Vincent rolled his eyes. “Damn. I was hoping you’d take over the game, Gianna. You and Nico are the ones who like this shit.”