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“Give it some time. If you’re still angry tomorrow, leave.”
She didn’t know why Striker was here, why she was listening to him, or why, when he touched her cheek with his finger, she didn’t pull away.
“I hate to think your anger is because of me.”
“It isn’t. I’m mad at my sister.”
“My guess is because she said something about me.”
“You may think you know everything, but you don’t.”
He grabbed her hand and looked at her wrist. “I know you’re still wearing the bracelet I gave you for Christmas.”
“Only to remind me to return it to you.”
“I don’t believe you.” Striker put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a sheer blue bag. “I got these for you.”
Aine shook her head. “Why?”
“I knew how nice they’d look with your bracelet.”
“Griffin, you can’t—”
“I like hearing you call me that far more than Striker. I want us to be friends, Aine. I want that so much.”
“I don’t,” she said, refusing to take the bag from his hand.
“You’re angry. I get that. But I hope one day you won’t be anymore, and you’ll see that I only want the best for you.” He held the bag out closer to her. “Please accept these. Consider them a peace offering.”
She wanted to take them, but she couldn’t bring herself to. It was as wrong for her to accept gifts from him as it was for him to buy them.
“You should give them to someone else.”
Striker tilted his head and smiled. “If you refuse to take them now, I’ll hang on to them until you’re ready to.”
“You broke up with me. People don’t buy gifts for people they broke up with.”
“Lots of people buy gifts for their friends.”
“You shouldn’t be one of them.”
He looked at his watch. “I’m sorry, but I need to get back. Are you going to stick around?”
&
nbsp; “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Again, I hope you do.”
Her phone buzzed, and she looked at the screen. “I need to take this.”
“Is it the plumber?”
“That’s none of your business.”
—:—
Striker went back downstairs, but Razor wasn’t in the office. He studied the monitor that he had been most of the morning, waiting to see what Ghafor would do next.
