Fall for a Billionaire

This journey is going to be long from Milan to Florence. I am travelling to this city for the first time but it’s not me alone going there. We are a group of 10 people who are travelling to the city of Florence for our internship. After graduating from SDA Bocconi school of management with good grades, ten excellent students which also includes me have been selected for a six months internship in the renowned company of Mr Andre Dawson, a great business tycoon all over Italy, the sole owner of the company ‘Saga world’. He is a businessman, financier, industrialist, top executive and merchant prince. His billion-dollar ‘Saga’ deals in architectural fields, technologies, automobiles, software, diamond mining and now the company has reached numerous heights in the business world. Luckily, we get this golden opportunity to be part of this great company, BUT! This is the only information I have gathered till now after reading thirty magazines for the past three weeks. The last thing that I am holding in my hand is a brochure. I had promised myself yesterday during the two hours train journey, I would complete reading this and might find any detailed information about this less-visible man, Mr Andre Dawson. Honestly, I sit with disgust. This idiotic brochure is as same as those idiotic magazines which I bought for thirty - dollars. Why is there no personal information about this man in any of these brochures & magazines? Has he become a recluse?? Or he has abandoned his family after gaining so much success? Anyways my main job is not to poke a nose in someone’s life but the fact is, I am hell curious. I just want to gulp down every information of his entire world and hence in my curiosity list what tops first is the very magnate, Mr Dawson, a man of a high intellectual, a man of power and money. Although I let this thought go away sometimes because it has no link with my internship at all but then ‘Curiosity kills me.’ He is a global icon, handsome bachelor, charismatic and omnipotent maybe but the only missing thing in his life is his personal relations and affairs. Has he never been in a relationship? Maybe he never was or just like him he has a secretive wife and the world is not aware of it?”  “Worthless!” I murmur, throwing down the brochure in aggression in the dustbin. There is no point to keep it in my backpack when I am unsuccessful in discovering his particulars. I return back to my seat, starting to collect the bags and luggage because after twenty minutes we will be reaching the wonderful city of Florence. I have been staring at my phone when a tall, young man walks up to my compartment and grabs an empty place in front of my seat. I pay no attention though but I know the constant gaze behind his black lavish spectacles is fixed on me. When I could not take it anymore, I lash out. “Don’t you have nowhere else to stare?” “Maybe not” He smiles wickedly and takes out the same brochure I have thrown just now. “Do you know this man is picturesque?” He asks placing the brochure in front of me. “Yes! A strange creep, what is to your matter?” I ask him .“Are you, his bodyguard?” “No! Why did you throw it?” “Because I felt the necessity to do it. Did it bother you?”  “Probably yes! he is magnetic ...and the whole world bows down at his feet and not just a simple, strange creep.” He says fluently in his Italian accent.  “Thanks for your important info but it won’t help anyways Mr. Spectacle. If it bothers you I can’t do anything.” He smirks looking at me. I wish that once he takes out his black lavish specs so that I could see the man behind it but he does not.  “Are you a reporter, Miss Catherine?” “No! I am not a reporter. Wait, how do you know my name?” He gets up from his seat and I see a tall, young man directly looking at me. Due to panic rising, I too stand up too and now there is just a mere gap in between us. I look at his face, he bears a coquettish smile, a mysterious one. His hand reaches for my ID which has been hanging down through my neck and he reads out.  “Miss, Catherine Petrosyan”  “Who are you?”  “You will know me soon, miss Petrosyan but before that, you must keep this with you.” “Sorry, but you won’t tell me what to keep.” He smirks the second time. Damn! Does he know me before or is he up to something? I wonder quizzically.  “Miss Catherine Petrosyan, it is a thing of an important person and throwing it away may hurt him.” “Why do you care? Can you take off your glasses please?” “You are so curious to know me, Miss Petrosyan.” He tucks a loose hair strand behind my right ear.”  Because of his glasses, my eye contact with him is blocked, otherwise, I would love to scratch his face and pluck his eyes too. How dare he talk to me like this? As if he knew me before? I try to recall all the men I have met before but he is not one of them. Somewhere I doubt if he is a spy of Mr Andre Dawson. But what would his spy do here?”