Rock Hard (Rock Kiss #2)(99)

The smile faded into masculine exasperation. “I’m fine, Charlotte.”

“Hey.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.” When he stayed stubbornly silent, she decided that since gentleness wasn’t working, she’d take a page from his own book. “You’re acting like the chickens.”

That got her a narrow-eyed look. “Say that again.”

She smiled. “Say what?”

“You’re a riot, Ms. Baird.”

“You know why you work so hard,” Charlotte said. “Don’t tell me you don’t.”

He blew out a breath. “I need to walk.”

Getting up, they headed out of the fernery and the gardens altogether. Charlotte gave him the lead and he took them toward the beautiful old trees in the Domain, leaves rustling in the wind as they walked.

He spoke without warning. “It broke something inside my mother when we ended up in the shelter.”

In him too, Charlotte thought—he’d been made utterly helpless, his foundations stripped away. It made her so angry at Brian. Never had she been more aware of Gabriel’s strength and heart in finding a way to allow his father back into his life. “How rich are you?”

“Thinking of the divorce already?”

Elbowing him, she said, “I know you have lots of zeroes after your name. The apartment was a giant flashing sign, even if I didn’t realize what you must’ve been paid as a sportsman, and what you’re paid as a CEO, forget about your property portfolio and the stock options.”

“Your point?”

“I’m getting there. A lot of your money, is, I’m guessing, either in banks, or in stable investments no one can touch without your consent.”

That got her a curt nod.

Stopping, she came around to face him. “You can afford to take a breath,” she whispered, her hands on his chest. “You don’t need to constantly keep making money. Even if I decide to demand a diamond bracelet every month, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t make a dent in your zillions.”

Lips tugging up slightly at the corners, he gripped her hips. “You can have a diamond bracelet every month, but you have to wear them all at once, naked in bed—no wait, I have a better idea. You have to take dictation while wearing only diamonds.”

“Gabriel.”

He ran his thumbs across her hip bones. “I’m not sure I know how to stop.”

“So,” she said, “we’ll work on it.”

The echo of his own words had him smiling. “Meanwhile, you’ll drag me out to look at flowers and canoodle in a public park?”

“We aren’t canoodling.”

“We will be.” However, instead of a kiss, he reached into his pocket to pull out a piece of paper. “It’s a prenuptial agreement.”

Mouth dry, she said, “You’re asking me to marry you?”

“No. You are marrying me.” Taking her hand, he thrust a ring onto her finger. The diamond was huge enough that she could’ve used it to bash Richard over the head, the design around it so delicate and the size so perfect that she knew it had been made to suit her bone structure.

“These,” Gabriel said, holding up the paper again, “are the terms.”

She scowled at him and took the folded piece of paper. “I have nothing against signing a prenup, but that was the least romantic non-proposal in the universe.” Opening up the single sheet of paper, she found a handwritten list.



Prenuptial Agreement between Gabriel Bishop and Charlotte Baird



You (Charlotte) will wear your engagement ring and/or your wedding ring at all times so other men do not hit on you.



If a man hits on you regardless, you are to tell your husband so your husband can kick his ass.



You will change your last name to Bishop.



You will agree with everything your husband says and never argue with him.



You must never wear anything but black lace underwear.



You agree to take dictation half-naked at least once so as to fulfill one of your husband’s office fantasies.



In return, your husband will fulfill one or more of your own dirty fantasies—all of which you promise to share with him in intricate detail.





Charlotte looked up without reading the rest of the list. “This is a ridiculous list.”

“We can negotiate.”

Putting her fisted hands on her hips, the paper crumpled in one, she said, “Don’t you try that with me, Gabriel Bishop.” He had a sneaky tendency of inserting clauses into contracts that he didn’t really care about—his opponents were usually so infuriated about negotiating them out that they gave him what he actually wanted.

What he actually wanted right now was for her to marry him, and likely, terms one and two. And okay, probably six and seven. “I am not marrying you.” She tugged off the ring and put it back in his jeans pocket when he wouldn’t take it.

He bared his teeth. “Yes, you are.”

“No, not until I can sleep the night through with you.” Folding her own arms, she stood toe to toe with him. “Husbands and wives do not sleep in different rooms in my world.” It was hard enough now, but if she took vows, if she became his partner in every way, it would cut at her each night she slept alone.