Mr Billionaire's Borrowed Wife
I opened the white door carved with seashells.
The mermaid room still looked like someone had taken the ocean, soothed it, and set it gently inside four walls. Tiny starfish-shaped lights glowed softly. A smiling whale stretched across the mural on the wall. On the pale blue round rug, Sienna sat with her legs sprawled wide, short hair messy, bangs falling over her forehead, working on a puzzle with the kind of grave concentration that suggested the fate of entire nations rested on the clownfish piece in her left hand.
Angela sat beside her, propping her chin on one hand, clearly deep into boredom mode.