I feel like Sergio was waiting his turn. Like he was patient and watched as the Benedetti world took form and grew layers and finally, he was up. He had a story too, and it had to be told, no matter what. And this is why I’m writing this letter. There will be a second one at the end of the book. Please do not read ahead.

This book is not a traditional romance and I know it will be upsetting to some of you, but I had no magic up my sleeve for this one. No tricks. No nothing. This is the only story I could tell for Sergio and I feel like from the first second I heard his voice, as much as it broke my heart, he knew it too.

I don’t want to say too much more here. I don’t want to give anything away. I just want to ask that you keep an open mind.

As always, thank you so much for choosing to spend your time reading my book. I am honored and awed, still, by this. I hope you fall in love and maybe even have your heart broken a little. I hope you feel every single thing the way I felt it and maybe when you play that song, you’ll feel Sergio’s arms around you too.

Love,

Natasha

Prologue

Natalie

“Wrong place, wrong time, sweetheart.”

The words echo in my head.

I’ve done this before. Twice in my life now, I’ve been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Isn’t there some sort of karmic balancing? Like isn’t it enough to witness this kind of violence just once in a lifetime?

Last time was six years ago. I was fourteen and standing in front of the freezer of the convenience store down the street from my house deciding which ice cream bar I wanted. I remember the humming of the air conditioner. Liking the cool inside on that too hot August day. It was one of the few times my parents let me go alone. We didn’t live in the best neighborhood.

The men came in so quickly, I barely registered the fact they were wearing ski masks before the first gunshot went off. I dove to the ground and shut my ears to the commands they shouted, but the man with the greasy shirt saw me. He came at me and I would have screamed if I could find my voice, but the others’ screams muted me, and when he gripped me by my hair and hauled me to my feet, I followed where he led me.

Another gunshot was followed by another scream and I swear I saw red splatter the walls.

Blood.

But when he threw me to the ground in the last aisle and I registered what he meant to do, it all became surreal.