Marriage of Inconvenience: The Billionaire and His Farm Bride

Orion’s POV

The boardroom was dead quiet, the kind that means serious money is on the table. I was about to rip into a competitor’s weak quarterly report when my assistant’s face popped up on the screen, pale as ever.

“Mr. Blackwood, I’m so sorry to interrupt. Security’s on line one. They say it’s an emergency in the lobby.”

Emergency.

My brain flashed through possibilities: fire, bomb threat, corporate raid. “Put them through,” I said, keeping my voice even.

The six executives around the table stared at me.

A nervous voice came over the speaker. “Sir, there’s a young woman down here. She has a goat on a leash and she’s demanding to come up. She says she’s your fiancée.”

The room froze.

Cynthia, my head of mergers, raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.

“A goat,” I repeated, my tone flat.

“Yes, sir. A small spotted one and she’s waving some old paper and won’t budge.”

My stomach sank.

That stupid pact.

My grandfather’s sentimental promise from years ago, some life-debt nonsense I figured everyone had forgotten.

I thought the other family had moved on or passed away.

“I’ll be right down,” I said and hung up. I stood. “Excuse me, I have some family matters to handle.”

I didn’t wait for questions. I walked out, my shoes echoing sharply on the marble.

I was furious. My building, my empire, invaded by a goat?

In the elevator down, I pictured a desperate country girl with bad teeth trying to cash in.

I’d write a check, call my lawyer, and send her straight back to whatever farm she came from.

The doors opened to the lobby and it was pure chaos.

There she was, standing in the middle of my pristine lobby: a young woman in a simple blue dress and muddy boots, her wheat-colored hair in a loose braid. She was gazing up at the chandelier like it was the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen.

Undoubtedly, she was beautiful and that only made me angrier. She looked nothing like the mud-faced 5-year-old I saw when we visited their farm years ago.

Next to her sat a faded floral duffel bag and a small brown-and-white goat happily chewing on an expensive throw pillow.

The security guard was pleading with her to leave.

She saw me and her whole face lit up with a bright, genuine smile. “There you are! I was starting to think you worked in the basement or something. I’m Reina.”

She held up a crumpled, stained piece of paper. “You’re expecting me, right?”

I crossed the lobby in seconds and took her elbow. “What the hell are you doing?” I hissed.

Her smile never wavered. She smelled like fresh hay and apples.

“Arriving! The bus dropped me a block away. Bessie hated the sidewalk noise, so I carried her most of the way.”

People were staring and phones were probably recording.

“We’re going upstairs. Now. Quietly.”

“Perfect!” she said cheerfully.

She picked up her bag and handed me a sparkly pink leash. “Here, take Bessie. This bag’s heavy.”

I took it and the damned goat looked up and bleated at me.

Me, Orion Blackwood, holding a goat leash. I let out an exasperated sigh as we walked to the elevator. Bessie trotted beside me, her little hooves clicking on the floor.

Reina waved at the stunned staff. “Hi everyone! Lovely place you’ve got!”

The elevator doors closed, trapping us in a mirrored box with the goat quietly munching the wall trim.

“You’re taller than I imagined,” she said, studying me. “But a bit grumpier than I expected. Grandpa said city air makes people tense.”

I stared straight ahead with my jaws clenched.

Finally, the penthouse doors opened and I let them in and slammed the door behind me.

My home that was all clean lines, gray tones, and perfect order now had muddy prints and a goat.

Reina dropped her bag with a thud and turned in a slow circle.

“Wow,” she said softly.

Finally, I thought. She’s overwhelmed.

But then her expression turned concerned. “Orion… are you doing okay? Money-wise, I mean?”

“What?”

“It’s just so empty in here. No photos, no cozy blankets and no plants. Don’t you have anything from your family? You must get lonely.”

She was pitying me.

This girl who showed up with a goat was pitying my penthouse.

I stepped closer, it was time to set things straight.

“Listen,” I said, voice low and firm. “You’re here because of some old agreement I had nothing to do with. You’ll stay in the guest room. Don’t touch my things. Don’t interrupt my work. Keep that animal contained. Stay quiet and keep out of sight. Understand?”

She tilted her head, listening carefully, like I was a nervous horse.

Then she nodded. “Okay.”

She pointed toward the windows. “So which one faces south?”

“What?”

“For my herbs. I brought seeds with me and they need at least six hours of sunlight.”

Before I could respond, she continued: “And where’s a good spot for Bessie? She likes a good view but hates drafts. We’ll need real soil too, not that stuff from city stores. Do you have a car and a shovel we can use?”

She hadn’t listened to a single rule.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

She was already making plans.

Reina’s POV

Well, he’s handsome, I’ll give him that.

Tall and sharp-featured, like someone out of a magazine but grumpy as a bear with a sore paw.

Grandpa called the Blackwood boy “city-slick,” and he wasn’t wrong.

Orion looks like he survives on tiny plates of food and never relaxes.

I knew he’d be shocked, me showing up with Bessie in the lobby but I thought once the surprise wore off, he’d be curious or even happy.

The pact is about family and gratitude. It’s a good thing.

The look on his face, though? Pure horror, like I’d ruined his perfect world.

But that’s all right, animals get jumpy with new people too.

You just move slowly and let them warm up.

His penthouse broke my heart.

It’s huge and beautiful, but there’s no life in it. No worn furniture, no family pictures, no smell of home-cooked meals. No wonder he’s so tense.

Living in an empty box would make anyone cranky.

When he laid out his rules, I let him finish. He was staking his claim, like Bessie butting heads with a new goat in the barn.

But those rules were all about shutting down. Don’t touch, don’t speak, don’t exist.

That’s no way to build a home or a marriage.

So I said “okay” to settle him, then asked about the real stuff: sunlight for herbs, a corner for Bessie.

The look on his face when I mentioned soil and a shovel was almost funny. His mouth just hung open.

For the first time, he looked real, not all stiff and polished.

Under all that grumpiness, he’s lonely and he’s forgotten what a real home feels like.

Grandpa didn’t just send me to keep a promise. He sent me because these city people need grounding, need life breathed into their world.

Orion thinks his rules will keep me in check, he doesn’t realize yet that you can’t bottle up sunshine.

I’m here to bring warmth, whether he wants it or not.

Starting with some basil and thyme on a sunny windowsill.

Everyone feels better with something green to care for, even a tall, grumpy man who pretends he doesn’t need anyone.

We’ll see how long he can stay cold.