The Lost Daughter

CHAPTER SIX.

"So, what now?" Wren asks me.

I tilt my head a bit, thinking. My eyes drift towards the back wall of the kitchen that's made of glass. The reflection of light off the gorgeous pool glinting across the semi enclosed stone patio space, beckoning to me.

A frown forms on my face as I do a mental inventory of all the clothing I have, knowing I don't own a bathing suit but wishing one would pop into existence as I thought of it, anyway.

I huff a sigh as it just reminds me I should use this time to unpack.

I stare out at the beautiful, relaxing sight for a second more before returning my gaze to my remaining brother.

"You up for helping me sort out my suitcase?" I ask him.

This makes him perk up. "Have you not seen your closet yet?" He shoots back.

I raise suspicious eyebrows. "No... why?"

He just grins back at me. "C'mon." He says, stepping forward and herding me back out of the kitchen.

I just barely remember to snag the phone Weston handed me. With no pockets, I just carry it and pray I don't let it slip through my fingers as I walk next to Wren, his shoulder occasionally brushing against mine as he leads the way.

It takes me a while before I realize we're not heading towards the two staircases in the entryway. I'm about to ask where we're going when he stops us in front of an odd looking glass door.

He presses a button on the side and the transparent door slides open and my mouth gapes as I realize what it is.

We step in and Wren presses another button to signal us to go up.

An elevator.

It seems to rush to comply. The door sliding back shut and sending us to the second floor almost instantly.

We get off near the recreation room I noticed last night and I can't help but to turn to Wren in amusement, "We couldn't have taken the stairs?" I wonder dryly.

"Where would the fun be in that?" He returns, his innocent-looking smile seared on his face.

It's a quick walk the rest of the way to my room. When we get there I kneel beside my suitcase to zip it up in order to drag it across the large space.

When I look up, Wren is frowning down at it. "When is the rest of you stuff getting here?"

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and re-examine the bag as I stand up and start carrying it towards that second unopened door on the other side of the room. "What do you mean?" I ask.

"This can't be all of it." He states, looking around the room as if he'll suddenly spot some hidden boxes.

"Nope, this is it." I assure him over my shoulder as I reach the door, opening it with a free hand.

I'd like to think I'm not a materialistic type of person. That I don't care about frivolous or unnecessary extremes that wealth can buy you. I've always thought I was not necessarily above that but that it didn't mean anything to me. And for the most part, that's true.

Sometimes I would get the chance to catch some of those home buying shows on television, and I would watch as some wives made walk-in closets a priority in choosing a house and I would scoff at them. Wondering how they could give up a great place—somewhere I could only dream I'd be able to live—for some silly closet?

I really didn't think I was that kind of girl.

I pad slowly up to the sleek white island in the center, hefting my suitcase up with care so I don't crack or scuff the marble top, peering around the space with what I'm sure are stars in my eyes.