average human’s Reviews > Control My Night > Status Update

Steadman caught it. My leash, transferred. Arwood kissed the woman with Silas on the cheek and headed out the door. A group of guards followed him.
“Behave yourselves, everyone,” the woman said, an Italian lilt softening her words. “Let’s focus on outcomes with minimal disturbance.”
Like Arwood, she beckoned to the four guards assigned to Zizkov and walked outside.
“Why are we going east?” I asked Steadman, feeling incompetent and like I was missing something obvious. Usually, when decisions were made for me at work, someone explained those decisions. Here, I felt like a farm animal waiting for a sheepdog. Was Steadman the sheepdog in this scenario? It seemed like it. “Anika said Arwood doesn’t own the eastern districts.”
Steadman’s blue eyes probed my face, as if deciding whether to answer me. Instead, he jerked his head toward Silas and exited. I supposed my following him was implied. This chafed, my collar a reminder I had no power to argue.
Silas avoided my gaze. Although pride prickled my insides, I couldn’t push down my concern. I caught up to him as we followed Steadman to the matte black G Wagon outside.
“Are you alright?” I asked, loud enough for Silas to hear over the crunching gravel and shutting vehicle doors.
“I’m fabulous.”
His shoulders were slumped, and his gait held the fatigued movements of someone who needed a day in bed. Had this been the ‘catch’ he’d referred to with the necklaces? “You passed out, you looked—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Pride took over. He didn’t want to talk to me? Fine. Any lasting kinship from this afternoon faded, reminding me of my purpose. I needed to pay attention; I could miss an opportunity for escape if I focused too much on Silas.
Steadman swung into the passenger seat of the Mercedes, and one of the guards slipped behind the wheel. I found myself sandwiched between Silas and Matej, wishing for some personal space. Headlights illuminated the valet circle. A collection of gleaming sedans accompanied an exiting Aston Martin and Maserati, Arwood and the woman presumably in the latter two.
“They’re not coming with us?” I fished.
Steadman nodded to the driver, who steered us toward the gate and the departing line of taillights. “No,” he answered in his rough, American-accented voice. It was flatter than Arwood’s, the origin just as indistinguishable to my ears. “Never all together.”
“And the place we’re going to?” I prompted. I was already sick of being nudged here and thrown there without context. After the day I’d had, my threshold had worn thin. When Steadman didn’t answer, I pushed on, temper hijacking my delivery. “You clearly have an intended purpose for me tonight. Keeping me in the dark will only prove counterproductive to your end goals, whatever they are.”
Silas smirked.
“You’re more talkative than I anticipated,” Matej murmured. I avoided his elbows while he retied his ebony hair into a ponytail. “It’s interesting.”
My burly kidnapper’s countenance gave nothing about his mood away. His way of telling me to shut up, perhaps?
Steadman lifted two fingers in farewell to the security at the exit. In the rear-view mirror, I watched them close the gate behind us. “Your friend from this afternoon.” His tone remained infuriatingly calm as he answered me. “We’re going to visit the man who hired him and have a chat. Short or long, it’ll depend on him.”