Miss Fisher was pacing. She didn't pace often. In fact she generally considered it a useless exercise. But currently her legs didn't ask for permission, they just kept on walking across the parlour in silly circles.

She'd attempted to telephone the station but had been informed by a rather bored sounding Constable Foster that the Inspector had left for the night. And apparently there was nothing else he could do. What poppycock!

So she had contacted the only other person she could think of that might be of any help in the current situation. A knock at the door finally announced his arrival. Miss Fisher was in the hall even before Mr Butler could appear. The servant withdrew discreetly back into the dining room.

"Alessandro," she beamed.

"Miss Fisher."

He nodded, waited for her to ask him inside. For a moment he stood somewhat lost in her hall until she remembered to help him out of his coat.

"Can I get you a drink?" she asked after she had ushered him into the parlour.

"With pleasure, but first I would like you to tell me why you have asked me here," Alessandro said.

Despite his words he didn't resist when she pushed him onto the love seat and pressed a tumbler into his hand. Phryne slipped opposite him into an armchair and crossed her legs.

"I have made some headway in your case," she said much more easily than she felt.

"I'm pleased to hear it. But it does not explain why I am here."

Phryne rolled her eyes at him, again tracing some resemblance with her Inspector. No, not hers. Concetta's. The pain flitted past her heart so quickly that she had no time to ponder it.

"I seem to have discovered their plan. But at this point I am not entirely certain how to prevent it," she said after a long moment. Alessandro gulped visibly.

"Concetta?"

"I do not believe your friend involved," Phryne said slowly. "But she may still end up being hurt."

Briefly she explained their findings and conclusions, not wasting a word more than necessary. Alessandro listened carefully and attentively.

"Concetta is getting married?" he asked once she had finished. "I had no idea."

Phryne frowned at this anticlimactic conclusion.

"That seems an odd thing not to share with an old friend?" she said.

He smiled at this enigmatically.

"I may have overstated our closeness," he said, sipping his drink. "We have not spoken much in recent years."

"I see," Phryne returned, a smile sneaking onto her lips as she watched him.

Something shifted in his expression, turned his eyes darker and more intense. He really was very handsome. He drained his glass in one big gulp and for a moment she feared he would rise and leave her alone with her problem. But he didn't, just lifted his hand in a wordless plea for a refill. She didn't need to be asked twice. As she stepped beside him with the decanter, the scent of his aftershave sneaking into her nostrils, a familiar longing took a hold of her. Maybe he could be compelled to stay the night. She wasn't certain how far her cravings reached, but a pair of strong arms to hold her seemed like a heavenly idea just about now. To forget for a few hours that Jack Robinson was to be married on Saturday, the 18th. Alessandro looked up at her, his eyes almost black and she knew he had similar designs. God knew what he was trying to forget. Or whom.

Alessandro pulled her hand towards himself, pressing a soft kiss to her wrist. She almost purred with pleasure. A polite throat being cleared drew her back from the spheres she had been floating in.

"Miss, the Inspector."

Mr Butler looked somewhat embarrassed, but he had nothing on Jack, who was standing right behind him, thunderclouds brewing above his head which rivalled the one's outside.

"Jack?" Phryne exclaimed, a touch too shrill, but without trying to hide that both her stomach and heart did a leap at his sight. Alessandro looked confused but had the decency to let go of her and withdraw quietly.

"Miss Fisher," the Inspector said coldly. She found it hard not to flinch underneath the ice in his stare. Stubbornly she straightened her back. He was the one rushing off to get married. He could hardly expect her to not even entertain guests.

"I do not believe I know your guest," he said into her thoughts. She forced herself to smile.

"Mr Alessandro Bricelli," she introduced. "Inspector Robinson from the City South Police. Mr Bricelli is my client," she added pointedly. The two men shook hands like two wild cats, not taking their eyes off each other.

After she had filled a glass for the Inspector and he'd settled in a chair that conveniently left him room to stare at both, Miss Fisher and Bricelli, the other man suddenly took a keen interest in his wristwatch.

"I believe it is time for me to head home," he explained calmly. "Please do keep me informed, Miss Fisher."

"Of course," Phryne said, walking him to the door. She felt Jack's eyes boring into her back. Alessandro Bricelli slipped quietly into the night, leaving her alone in the parlour with the Inspector and the crackling of the fire.

"So, Jack, what brings you here?" she asked after a long moment of watching him carefully. He seemed tired and still radiated quiet anger.

"My Constable informed me you wished to see me on an urgent matter," he said without tearing his eyes from her. "I apologize if I spoiled your nightly entertainment."

He didn't sound sorry in the slightest, she realised with faint amusement. Miss Fisher was beginning to enjoy this game. So he did still care. It was a somewhat soothing thought, if not quite enough to comfort her over the fact that he intended to marry somebody else. She shrugged her shoulders and refilled their glasses.

"Since you scared my guest away, you may have to provide the entertainment yourself," she said, looking at him over the rim of her tumbler. Jack's face went stony at this and for a long moment she thought he would actually up and run. But he remained stubbornly seated. Only his face was withdrawing. Her heart sank all the same.

"Miss Fisher, is there any point to my presence here?" he asked in a voice that reminded her of their very first meetings. A tone that announced that she was an annoying obstacle that he had to navigate, even though he'd rather wished not to.

"You asked me for proof, Jack, I have proof," she said with as much forced calmness as she could muster. "The Camorra is planning an attack on your wedding party."

He gaped at her.

"What possible reason could there be for that?" he asked after a long pause.

"Politics," she said. He raised his eyebrows at her. "Let's say your future father-in-law is not quite as secure in his position as we assumed. He needs to stop his daughter from making an unsuitable match. By any means, Jack."

He shook his head slowly.

"So what do you propose? That I cancel my wedding due to wild speculations, Miss Fisher?"

She couldn't help but smile cheekily at this.

"That could certainly be an option."

He licked his dry lips.

"And one that would rather suit you, I suppose?"

She couldn't read his tone. Was he presenting her with an opening? A challenge?

"I admit, your decision came as a surprise," she said vaguely. He didn't answer for a long moment, kneading his hands on his lap.

"It was never my design to upset you," he said, his tone entirely changed. For some reason his assuming her upset about his wedding enraged her.

"I believe it to be ill advised, that is all," she said, more hotly than she had intended. "Why the hurry, Jack?"

Again his infuriating silence.

"I won't deny that it was a quick engagement. But what am I waiting for, Phryne?"

He held her gaze, his eyes dark with emotions. She couldn't manage to look away.

"I cannot wait any longer," he said in so quiet, yet heavy, a tone that she was sure her heart broke under the weight of it. Phryne could say nothing. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, turned the world around her blurry. His face melted with the flickering fire into blotches of colour.

"You've made your decision then?" she finally brought out.

A tiny nod. Then he stood, turned a last time in the door. She didn't look around.

"I'm sorry," he said. This time he sounded like he meant it.