People Are Like Snakes.

Chapter Three: People Are Like Snakes

Ian couldn't sleep. The memory of Zhedya's midnight conversation kept playing in his mind.

What had he been discussing so urgently at that hour? Who was he talking to? Ian tossed and turned, the expensive sheets tangling around his legs. This penthouse might be luxurious, but it felt like a cage.

Early the next morning, Ian dragged himself out of bed. He needed answers.

Maybe in the daylight, he could find some clue about his mysterious host. He crept into the living room, his bare feet silent on the plush carpet.

What he saw made him freeze in the doorway.

"Oh my God!" Ian stumbled backward, his heart hammering. "What the hell is that?"

Zhedya sat perfectly calm on the white leather sofa. Wrapped around his arm was a massive black snake, its scales shimmering under the morning light. The python moved slowly, coiling tighter around Zhedya's forearm.

Zhedya laughed at Ian's reaction. "Scared of a little snake?" he asked, his voice amused.

"Put that thing away!" Ian's voice shook. His skin crawled just looking at it. Snakes had always terrified him…the way they moved, their unblinking eyes. And here was Zhedya, handling one like it was a pet dog.

Zhedya stood up smoothly, the snake still wrapped around his arm. "This is Blue," he said, stroking the python's head.

"He's been with me for years." He walked over to a large glass enclosure and carefully placed the snake inside.

Ian didn't relax until the lid was securely closed. He stayed where he was, keeping his distance from the glass box.

"Walking around at midnight, little journalist?" Zhedya turned to face him, a knowing smile on his lips. "Missing me already?"

Ian felt his face grow warm. "No! I mean... I was just thirsty. Needed water." He hated how flustered he sounded.

Zhedya's grey eyes seemed to see right through him. "Since you've met Blue, I should explain. He's been sick lately. I thought I might lose him."

His voice softened. "I drove three hours to get him to a special vet. They just returned him to me this morning."

Ian's mind raced. The midnight conversation... had it really been about a sick snake? It seemed too convenient. "You were talking to a vet at one in the morning?"

Zhedya's expression didn't change. "The vet is an old friend. He only returned my call late last night." He moved closer to Ian. "You should be more careful about eavesdropping."

Before Ian could respond, Zhedya changed the subject. "Come, have breakfast. How's your writing going? I read your latest article. Quite impressive."

As they walked toward the dining room, Ian couldn't help glancing back at the snake enclosure. Blue was watching him, tongue flicking in and out.

"I think he likes you," Zhedya murmured, his voice low and meaningful. "Maybe a little too much."

*****

Later that day, Ian was trying to write in his room when he heard a soft knock. Zhedya stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets. Ian did a double-take - his host was wearing thin-framed glasses.

"Been busy writing?" Zhedya asked.

Ian nodded, distracted. "I didn't know you wore glasses. What about your grey eyes?"

"Contacts," Zhedya said simply. "The colored lenses help with bright lights at work. I prefer real glasses at home."

The glasses changed Zhedya's appearance completely.

He looked less like a dangerous CEO and more like a handsome professor. The transformation was unsettling.

Taking a deep breath, Ian decided to test the waters. "I'm thinking of visiting the murder scene tonight. I need more information for my next article."

The change was instant. Zhedya's relaxed posture vanished.

"You're not leaving this house," he said, his voice sharp and commanding.

Ian blinked, taken aback. "What?"

Zhedya seemed to catch himself. His expression softened. "I mean... it's too dangerous. After what happened at the hospital..."

He ran a hand through his dark hair. "I had a friend in college. My best friend. We argued one night, and he left the dorm. He never came back."

Ian watched as Zhedya's eyes grew distant with memory. "Someone attacked him on the street. He didn't survive." Zhedya's voice dropped to a whisper. "I've always blamed myself. If I had stopped him from leaving... if I had gone with him..."

The raw pain in Zhedya's voice seemed genuine. Ian felt a pang of guilt for bringing up bad memories. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't know."

"Just stay here," Zhedya pleaded, his grey eyes full of emotion. "Please. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you too."

In that moment, Ian's suspicions melted away. He reached out and took Zhedya's hands. They were surprisingly cold. "Okay," he whispered. "I'll stay. And... it wasn't your fault. What happened to your friend."

Then Zhedya did something unexpected - he pulled Ian into a hug. Ian stiffened for a moment before relaxing into the embrace. It felt nice to be held, to feel protected.

He never saw the satisfied smile that curved Zhedya's lips over his shoulder.

*****

The parking garage was dark and empty. Zhedya walked toward his car, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He paused, taking a deep breath.

"You know I hate being followed, Zack," he said without turning around.

A tall man stepped out from behind a concrete pillar. He had the same grey eyes as Zhedya. "Why are you protecting that journalist?" Zack demanded.

Zhedya finally turned to face him. "Strangling people in public now? That's sloppy. Do you want to get caught?"

"He saw my face!" Zack snapped. "He's a loose end!"

"He barely remembers what happened," Zhedya said coldly. "And I've made sure he won't go to the police. But attacking him in my hospital? That was stupid."

Zack took a step forward. "Since when do you care about some reporter?"

A dangerous smile played on Zhedya's lips. "Let's just say I have plans for him. Don't interfere."

His voice dropped to a threatening whisper. "If I wanted you in jail, you'd already be there. Don't test me."

He got into his car and drove off, leaving Zack standing alone in the dark garage. "Bastard!" Zack yelled at the retreating taillights.

*****

Back at the penthouse, Ian was bored. He sat in the game room, shooting virtual enemies on the screen.

Pow! Pow! Pow! The gunfire echoed in the large room. He'd been cooped up for days, and restlessness was eating at him.

The door suddenly flew open. Zhedya stood there, breathing heavily. "I thought you'd left," he said, his voice strained.

Ian paused the game. "The volume was too loud. I didn't hear you calling."

Zhedya sank onto the couch beside him, closer than necessary. Ian caught the smell of alcohol on his breath. Then, to Ian's surprise, Zhedya rested his head on Ian's shoulder.

"His days are numbered," Zhedya mumbled, his words slightly slurred.

A chill went down Ian's spine. "Who are you talking about?" he asked carefully.

But Zhedya didn't answer. He just closed his eyes, a small, secretive smile on his face.

Ian sat frozen, the weight of Zhedya's head on his shoulder, wondering what he'd just gotten himself into.