THE HEIR HE NEVER KNEW

The rain was pouring down heavily and soaked Rasmus to the bones. He didn't mind at all as the rain seemed to mirror his inner torment. He stood in the dimly lit foyer of Écarlate, the most expensive and secretive brothel in Sweden, his Suit, was wet and clinging to his chiseled physique. The water dripping from his black hair into the lapels of his handcrafted Armani jacket was barely noticeable to him. His world was a blur of alcohol, sorrow, and anger.

Inside, past the velvet ropes and tinted glass, Natalie Sandstrom sat motionless on a couch, her heart racing wildly over her ribs. The air was heavy with perfume and sin, and the walls were lined with women who had learned to smile under the burden of expectation. But she was different from them.

She swallowed hard as her throat felt dry, even though she had taken some champagne earlier. She was not soothed by the gentle hum of jazz. She was drowning, and so was the man outside. He was smothered by loss, and she was suffocated by debt and medical expenses so high that she believed they would bury her alive. She had no power.

The bouncer nodded as Rasmus pushed by him, the strong odor of rain and alcohol clinging to him like a destructive aura. He didn't bother to speak, ignoring the other people in the room. To help him forget, he needed a body.

The woman who handled Natalie, on seeing him enter leaned in and whispered to her

"That one's yours, sweetheart."

She looked at the man who was now standing at the bar. His presence was a command, and his posture conveyed dominance. Even when he ordered his drink, he did not order a menu of women as the others did. The room paused to make place for him; he was simply there.

She made her move. If she didn't, she'd be back on the streets by dawn. If she said yes, she might just survive. She pushed her legs toward him, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

"Looking for companionship?" She barely sounded like herself.

Rasmus turned and looked into her warm brown eyes, and everything stopped for a moment. He handed her a large amount of cash without a word, his gaze unreadable as he looked at her face.

"No names, no small talk, I just need you to keep me warm."

Natalie had to come to terms with the fact. She was capable of doing this. Only for tonight as this will definitely be here last night here.

The bartender tossed him more whiskey. He shoved it aside and stood up, pushed some cash across the bar to him.

"Upstairs." His voice sounded hoarse from exhaustion.

She gave a nod. She ought to be terrified. She was, indeed. But something shattered in his eyes made her follow him. The suite was gold-washed and darkly lighted, with silk sheets and champagne in a bucket of ice. A place designed for fun, for forgetting. Rasmus tore off his tie and threw it on the dresser, moving slowly but methodically. He returned his gaze to her eyes.

"You shouldn't be here." His comments were abrupt. He seemed to know. She swallowed.

"Neither should you." She replied curtly.

The muscles in his jaw tightened. Something about her eyes seemed to draw him in and it stirred up something in him.

The air in the room thickened as he moved closer to her all the while staring into her eyes. His body felt warm all of sudden

He couldn't explain why he was feeling this way with her.

Natalie just stood there staring at him.

"Just this one night." She thought.

The room had become dark. This one night would become a mistake that would later catch up with both of them.

Present Day (The Ultimatum)

The view of Stockholm's skyline from Rasmus Dahlgren's office was unparalleled due to its tall windows. Like the empire he was destined to inherit, the glass walls seemed like a concrete jungle reflecting the city's boundless expanse.

With a grim attitude and sharp Nordic features, Rasmus stood behind a sleek black desk and observed the city below. He was the epitome of authority and a formidable presence in the corporate sector. His black, simple, fitted suit added to the authority he exuded. His grandfather Gustav Dahlgren's rich baritone voice broke the stillness of the room.

"You have one year, Rasmus," Gustav stated, his tone harsh and purposeful.

"One year to marry, to produce an heir, or this family empire will be lost to your greedy and power drunk cousin"

Rasmus didn't give the elderly man a look. He was well aware of Gustav's predicament and he knew that his cousin was capable of tearing down this empire in no time at all. His jaw was clenched when his fingers brushed the desk's glossy wood. Weakness was not an option, but the pressure was too great. This determined the name of his family, their heritage, and their wealth. Gustav's chilly, piercing blue eyes pierced Rasmus like broken glass.

"This is something you can't avoid, Son, you can either fulfill your obligations or watch as everything falls apart. Nobody is indispensable. Not even you." His grandfather said. Now he realized there was no turning back. Rasmus could not do anything except follow the rules that Gustav had established. His serene exterior was threatened by the fury that was building inside of him. As if reading the younger man's soul, Gustav looked at him intently, studying his face.

"Time is of the essence. Rasmus, you've got one year. One year."

When Rasmus turned at last, his gaze met Gustav's. He answered in a tight voice,

"I will find a way, Grandpa."

Without sacrificing anything else he had to figure out how to satisfy his grandfather's requests. It was easier said than done, though.

As the gravity of his grandfather's command sunk in, his mind started racing. He needs to find a woman, marry her, and have a child within a year.

The thought of being stuck in a marriage, out of family obligation rather than passion, made his stomach churn. As he stood there, deep in thoughts, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the wall clock as if it was reminding him that he did not have time.