He thinks he can buy whatever he wants. Even me. There was no name or address on the package in my mail. Only sexy lingerie, and a letter in which he claimed: That I already belonged to him. I thought it was a mistake. No one would send something like that to a girl like me. After all, the most exciting part of my day was getting to the marathon of a new show on Netflix. But the gifts kept coming. And the messages became more intimate. He would write things like, “thinking about you, driving me crazy.” Or, “what will our lips feel when we finally kiss?” I won't lie, I'm starting to fall in love with a stranger. And then he wanted to meet. He's gorgeous, charming, a virtual fucking billionaire. All the girls want him. But he has a secret. What if he's not a stranger anymore?