I am nineteen, Mr. O’Grady.

I focus on the man who has spoken. He’s sitting, smoke curling from his lips and my heart drops to my stomach.

This is the devil alright, and as handsome and evil as one, I think crazily.

*

The man is dressed to the nines, in a slate grey vest and lavender tie. It would look effeminate on another man, but this man makes it look more masculine. It’s probably the two days' growth of stubble on his strong jaw or the devilish glint in his black eyes. Whatever, he’s all man and I step back, suddenly afraid as I notice the glint of interest in his eyes, which sparkle as they rake my figure and face.

“Eh, Finn?’ he asks, swivelling in his chair to take a good look at me,

“Who is the little lady?’

I feel my face turn hot with embarrassment, and I square my shoulders. My hair is in a braided chignon at the base of my neck, and I can feel Finn’s eyes on my nape, but he just grunts.

‘Listen to her, Liam,’ he growls.

*

Liam O’Grady, I think, my heart pounding, he who is regarded as the D