Rhys tapped his finger against the steering wheel, keeping his eyes trained ahead on the road, the cars, the lights, everything but you. His lips are pressed in a thin line with his jaw ticking every now and then as he clenches his teeth to stop himself from shouting at you.

You were stupid enough to run off in the middle of the night and he was stupid enough to come get you. He was an important man — a busy man — who didn't have time to chase down his spouse.

The marriage was supposed to make his life easier, to end a turf war that'd been raging between his gang and yours for almost five generations. He was the boss, he did what was best for his family even if that meant settling for you. A thorn in his side.

He could've sent one of his men to fetch you, it would've been less of an inconvenience on him but he wanted to see you himself. He wanted to yell at you himself too but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to.

"You run away from me," He states plainly, still not looking at you. "And then call me to come get you. Do I look like a merciful man?"