She found a bottle of water in her gym bag, rinsed her mouth and spit, wishing she hadn’t removed her gym clothes when she had gone upstairs to change before she had left the house. Then she pulled her camisole up over her breasts, trying to smooth out the material with shaking hands. The fabric was torn, shredded around the cups, but she managed to cover up. She rinsed her mouth a second time, trying to keep her brain blank, but she couldn’t.

The third time she’d delivered her case of reserve was to Luigi Baldini, a man in his sixties, one she didn’t know as well as her grandfather’s other two friends, but he came often to the house to consult with her grandfather on several business dealings. He was always very polite. She’d stayed a few minutes, given him the congratulations from her grandfather on his latest business coup and left. She didn’t know he was dead until two months later when she came back for another short weekend.

She pressed the water bottle to her throbbing head. She was in no state to drive. Her body felt used up. Shaky. Achy. She hurt in places she didn’t know she had and worse, she could feel him inside of her, stretching her, leaving skid marks. She knew she would carry Elijah’s mark on her. She also knew she never wanted to see him again. She never wanted to repeat what happened between them with anyone else. Ever. She couldn’t get his voice out of her. The worst I ever had. Don’t even know how to suck cock.

The fourth time she’d delivered wine had been to Angelo Fabbri. Angelo was the son of her grandfather’s best friend. Angelo had taken over his father’s restaurant when his father had a massive stroke a few years earlier. She’d known Angelo since she could remember. He had bad luck in his relationships and she could never figure out why. He seemed like a good man. She had met him at his restaurant after hours to give him the wine, had coffee, talked for a while and then hugged him good-bye.

Angelo had been on his way home, the day’s take in his car, when someone who had been hiding in his backseat shot him in the back of the head. The police had questioned her. She had been the last person to spend time with him. They wanted to know if she’d seen anyone out in the parking lot, or near his car. The wine was in the trunk. She didn’t understand how Angelo could have put the wine in the trunk of his car and not see the robber.