Page 63 of Can’t Fight This Feeling

“No.” Richards leans back. “Every single case got settled out of court and conveniently swept under the rug.”

“Fucking figures.” Arthur sneers.

“Do you think these are the only incidents?” I ask Richards.

He shakes his head. “These are only the ones where he got caught. In my experience, there are always more. He’s got a taste for it. Gives him a rush. Chances are, there are a lot more, but because of his status, they disappear fast...if they come forward at all.”

“Is it worth pursuing this?” Arthur asks the question burning in the back of my mind.

“It’ll be complicated and drawn out. Because he’s a celebrity, it will get national coverage and could get messy. They’ll likely try to settle out of court.” Richards shrugs.

“But he’ll do it again.” Anger bubbles within me.

“Yup.” Richards takes a drink. “Another thing. If Marcy testifies against him, they’ll dig up her past and throw it in her face. You think she’s ready for that?”

Arthur and I exchange a long, knowing look. This could get ugly. Really ugly. We’ve spent years trying to protect Marcy, but this will rip open the scars to bleed anew. Is she willing to put herself through that?

“She can handle it,” Arthur replies. “But it’ll be hard.”

Richards nods. “Okay. I’ll make a few calls, see what I can dig up.” He takes the folders and tucks them out of sight. “I’ll have these delivered to the lawyer when she files the official charges.”

“Thanks.” I shake his hand, and we part ways.

Cyril has the car waiting for us outside the bar. Arthur gives him an address, and we climb in.

It’s a quick ride, barely enough time to compose myself to face the fight I know is coming. It’ll be hard to convince anyone to take this fucker on in court. I can only hope her lawyer isn’t a chickenshit who’d rather take a plea deal than make the bastard see the inside of a courtroom. If I have to scour the city for someone willing to take this case, then so be it. Marcy deserves a chance at justice. Every one of those women does.

Walking into the building, Arthur falls into step beside me. We take the elevator up, tense silence pulsing around us. I step out onto the twelfth floor and freeze.

Two men are standing outside the office, shaking hands with a third man. The taller one turns, and recognition slams into me with the force of a well-placed punch to the gut.

Vic Simmons. The same smug face I’ve seen on the cover of countless magazines and movie posters.

He hurt Marcy. Bastard.

His gaze fixes on me.

The sound of a door opening behind me makes me turn. Marcy steps into the hall, her eyes bloodshot, her chin raised high. Our eyes meet for a brief moment, but the second she sees Vic beyond us in the hallway, she pivots on her heel and retreats to the exit. Kate follows her, casting an apologetic, concerned glance at Arthur over her shoulder.

He fucking hurt her again. I don’t even care what he said or did, I saw the look of pain on her face. My control snaps.

“What the fuck did you do to her?”

His eyes widen as I approach, and he lifts his hands in defense. The moment I’m within reach, I strike. Hauling back, I let my fist fly. A perfect jab catches him square in the face. The crunch of his nose breaking mixes with the crack of my knuckles fracturing from the impact. Blood pours from his nose, but he hauls back, throwing a hook, and catches the side of my face.

He lunges for me, and it’s World War III. I feel like Rocky but without experience or confidence. The only thing I know is I want this asshole to bleed for what he did. We get a few more hits in before they drag us apart.

Arthur puts himself between Vic and me and hands me a handkerchief. His stern expression fixes on me like I’m a kid caught fighting at school.

“What the hell is your problem?” Vic shouts while two men in suits hold him back.

“That’s for what you did to Marcy, asshole.” I flip him the bird. “I’ll see you in court.”

He smirks. Blood stains his teeth. “I doubt that.”

I lunge forward again, but Arthur catches me by the arm. “Save it,” he growls against my ear. “This isn’t the time or the place. Come on.” He drags me into the office, out of the hallway.

As Simmons passes, I catch the twisted grin on his lips. He thinks he’s won, thinks he’s on top of this. But he doesn’t know how determined I can be. Fucking with Marcy has earned him a one-way ticket to prison.

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