Free Unrequited (Books Like Fifty Shades of Grey) by Aya Fukunishi Page A

seemed silly that now, as a grown man, John regularly found himself called to court on the wrong end of ridiculous paternity suits. Ever since he'd made his first millions, deadbeats had been showing up from around the country to claim that they'd been the ones to dump their load into his mother before catching the next bus out of town. Real classy types.
     
    They all wanted the same thing: a spot in his will. It was only because John refused to submit to DNA testing that they kept coming out of the woodwork, but he was too stubborn to take a swab or a needle and make it easy on himself.
     
    'John, I'm gonna lay it out for you. The moment your heart stops beating there's gonna be a feeding frenzy. It'll get messy. Every woman you've ever slept with will climb out of her cave to claim you put a baby in her belly. Every drunk old guy in the lower 48 will claim to have put you in your mom, and your brother... God love him, he'll say anything to get his next hit. It'll get very messy, and your good name will be dragged through the mud. Everything you've ever achieved will be forgotten, and all you'll be remembered for is the brawl over your estate.'
     
    John slumped, losing the boyish grin that had beamed out from countless magazine covers; the grin that had made him a hit with every college girl and housewife the world over. He ran his fingers through his thick dark hair, and scratched the light stubble on his cheek. 'So what do you suggest I do?'
     
    Arnold looked uncomfortable, and his eyes flitted to the cabinet that held his best scotch. 'I'm not gonna get involved in your love life, John, I know you too well for that, but you need an heir. You need a solid, unimpeachable line of succession that will discourage anyone from so much as filing suit, even your brother.'
     
    John sighed. 'You know better than anyone that I don't do relationships, Arn. Hell, when was I last in a relationship that didn't blow up in my face?'
     
    Arnold smiled. 'Well, there was that one time in your freshman year with... Oh no, I remember. You slept with her sister.' He chuckled in an effort to lighten the mood. 'Look, old pal, this is just my legal opinion. As your counsel I'm telling you to get your house in order. As your friend? Hell, I don't know. Work something out.'

 
     
    Chapter Two
     
    Work something out.
     
    As he walked onto the busy street from Arn's uptown Manhattan office John laughed at the thought. Arn was a good friend, but like most people he seemed to believe that money could solve every problem, if you throw enough of it. It was true of most things, of course. John could snap his fingers before bed and have a brand new private jet delivered in the morning. He could afford a dozen luxury homes dotted around the world, each with a full time staff prepared for him to arrive at any moment. Most pleasingly he could have almost any woman he wanted. If they weren't swayed by his unimaginable wealth they usually gave in to his looks and easy, confident charm.
     
    Unfortunately, when it came to relationships his money seemed to count for nothing. In fact it was often the problem, the wedge that drove between him and any woman he cared about. No matter how hard he tried he always seemed to end up with women who couldn't see beyond his bank balance.
     
    Since his first tech start-up broke big in the final year of high school he'd struggled with it. Overnight he'd gone from the cute, funny guy who always heard the line let's just be friends to the desirable, debonaire millionaire who caused panties to drop the moment he walked into a room. The first few years had been a lot of fun, but as his genius and insight quickly turned the millions into billions he found himself a target for every soulless, money grabbing gold digger on the planet. What's worse, he seemed to be tragically bad at recognizing them on sight.
     
    It had been his last girlfriend who'd put the icing on the cake. She was a sportswriter he'd met at the Superbowl,