“Sounds interesting, but I wasn’t cut out for the corporate world,” Sierra said. “I learned that lesson when I worked for Ecclestone’s Auction House.”

Damned if she was going to make this easy for him, she thought.

“Ecclestone’s was an entirely different situation,” North said, very earnest now. “You were set up to take the fall for a scam the company was running.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“I never believed you were guilty. Not for long, at any rate.”

“But for a little while?”

“The file Lucas gave me indicated that you had a somewhat unconventional background, so yes, I had a few questions at first,” North said.

“Because my father sells psychic poems online and my mother does song therapy and I was raised in an intentional community populated by a lot of people who prefer to live off the grid.”

“Like I said, your background looks a little unusual when it’s detailed in a Foundation file. But as soon as I got to know you, I realized you weren’t a fraud or a con artist.”

She gave him a bright little smile. “Thanks for that.”

“I’m not saying there might not be a few issues with management at the Foundation—office politics is a universal phenomenon—but it sure as hell isn’t a corrupt auction house.”

“I agree,” she said. “Nevertheless, I don’t think I would do well in any setting where I have to report to a boss or carry out corporate goals. I’ve got more of an entrepreneurial vibe. You’ve found your calling and that’s a wonderful thing. I’m still searching for mine.”

North looked wary. “Couldn’t you search for it here in Vegas?”

“Possibly. But somehow this town doesn’t strike me as the sort of place where I can hear the voice I’m trying to hear.”

“You’re talking about the voice in that poem?”

“Right,” she said. “There’s a lot of background noise in Vegas.”

“It’s quiet out in the desert where my house is located,” North said.

“That’s true,” she said. “Are you inviting me to move in with you?”

North hesitated and then exhaled slowly. “I have it on good authority that no woman would ever want to live in the Abyss.”

“Who is your authority?”

“My mother.”

“I see,” Sierra said. “Have you conducted any serious research to determine if she’s right?”

“What do you mean by ‘research’?”

“How many women have you invited to live at the Abyss?”

“None.”

“Why don’t you try asking one if she would be happy to move into the mansion?”

North went very still. “Where do you suggest I start this research?”

“How about with the woman who is closest at hand? Me.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t mind living in the Abyss?”

“I find it rather . . . stimulating.”

“Really? Because of the mirrors? Shit.” North broke off and pulled his buzzing phone out of his pocket. He grimaced when he saw the screen. “It’s Victor. I’d better take the call.”

“Go ahead. Knowing Arganbright, it will either be very good news or very bad news. He doesn’t seem to have any in-between mode.” Sierra got to her feet. “I’m going to the women’s room while you two chat.”