A NIGHT IN IBIZA

London, England — 11:47 p.m. The first lie of the evening was that Alessia Moreau was happy. She delivered it with a beautiful smile beneath the crystal chandeliers of London's most exclusive hotel. Her silver gown glittered with every movement, diamonds rested against her collarbones, and her chestnut hair fell in perfect waves down her back. Around her, champagne flowed freely as celebrities and music executives celebrated the annual Meridian Music Foundation Gala. "Alessia! Over here!" "One more picture, please!" She turned toward the cameras, tilted her chin, and smiled. Julian Cross slipped an arm around her waist. "Together!" a photographer called. Julian pulled her closer and kissed her cheek. The cameras flashed wildly. "Perfect couple!" someone shouted. Alessia's smile remained in place, but something inside her tightened. Perfect. That was what everyone called them. Perfect couple. Perfect career. Perfect life. Nobody seemed interested in asking whether she was happy. "You're quiet tonight," Julian murmured as the photographers moved away. "I'm at a party." "You used to love these things." "People change." His smile faded slightly. "Don't start, Alessia." She looked at him. At thirty, Julian was handsome, charming, and respected in the music industry. As a successful producer, he knew exactly what to say to investors and how to make strangers feel important. Three years earlier, that confidence had attracted her. He had believed in her music when she was still struggling to get noticed. Lately, however, his confidence had begun to feel like control. "I'm getting a drink," she said. Before he could answer, she walked away. Her phone vibrated inside her clutch. NINA: Please tell me you're enjoying yourself. Alessia smiled. ALESSIA: Of course. NINA: Liar. I know your fake smile when I see it. Alessia glanced across the ballroom and spotted Nina Brooks standing near a marble pillar. Her best friend and publicist wore a white suit and held a champagne flute. Nina caught her eye and raised an eyebrow. Alessia shook her head. Nina mouthed, Are you okay? Alessia nodded, although it was not entirely true. She had not taken a proper holiday in almost two years. Her days consisted of recording sessions, interviews, rehearsals, meetings, and flights. Even her rest days were carefully scheduled. She was grateful for her success. She knew how many talented singers would gladly exchange places with her. But gratitude did not erase exhaustion. Before she could message Nina again, Julian appeared beside her. "Come with me. Victor wants to discuss something." Alessia sighed. "Can't it wait until tomorrow?" "No. It concerns your career." Of course it did. She followed him toward a private seating area where Victor Hale, her manager, stood speaking with two investors. Victor was fifty-one, silver-haired, and always impeccably dressed. He had helped guide Alessia's career from promising newcomer to international superstar. He also had an opinion about nearly everything she did. "Alessia, lovely to see you," he said. "We were just discussing the European tour." "What about it?" "We're considering an extension." She frowned. "An extension?" "Six months, possibly longer. Ticket sales are excellent, and the sponsors want additional dates." Alessia stared at him. "I thought the tour ended in December." "It does under the current schedule." "And now?" "Now we're exploring a better opportunity." She turned to Julian. "Did you know about this?" He slipped his hands into his pockets. "We've discussed the possibility." "When?" "Recently." "Recently when, Julian?" His expression hardened. Victor intervened with a patient smile. "The negotiations are preliminary. We haven't made any final decisions." "Then why am I hearing about it at a gala?" "Because we're trying to plan ahead." Alessia felt anger rising in her chest. "I haven't had a proper break in almost two years. You can't keep adding dates without asking me." "Nobody is forcing you to do anything," Julian said quietly. She looked at him in disbelief. "You're discussing six more months of my life without me, and you think that's reasonable?" "Don't make this difficult." The words struck harder than they should have. She had spent years being accommodating, agreeing to exhausting schedules and swallowing her objections because she did not want to appear ungrateful. Now, the moment she questioned a decision, she was the problem. "I'm not making anything difficult," she replied. "I'm asking to have a say in my own life." Victor cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should discuss this privately another time." "Fine," Alessia said. "But the answer is no until I've considered it myself." Julian's jaw tightened. "Alessia, come on." She ignored him and walked away. For once, she did not wait for his permission. --- At 12:16 a.m., Alessia found Nina in the private lounge overlooking the city. "That bad?" Nina asked. "Worse." Alessia sank onto a sofa and removed her heels. "They want to extend the tour by six months. Julian knew about it, and apparently I'm unreasonable for asking why." Nina rolled her eyes. "Of course. How dare you have an opinion about your own life?" "Please don't make me laugh. I'm too tired." "Then let me solve your problem." Alessia looked at her suspiciously. "What are you planning?" "A holiday." "Victor would lose his mind." "Victor can buy a stress ball." Despite herself, Alessia laughed. Nina sat beside her. "Seriously, when was the last time you did something just because you wanted to?" Alessia opened her mouth, then closed it. She couldn't remember. "Exactly," Nina said. "Come away with me. A few days somewhere beautiful. No interviews, no meetings, no one telling you what to do." "Where?" "Ibiza." Alessia blinked. "Ibiza?" "Sunshine, beaches, good food, and a villa overlooking the sea. I know someone who can arrange everything." "You know someone with a villa overlooking the sea?" "I know important people." "You once complained about paying for a taxi." "That was a temporary financial decision." Alessia laughed again, and this time the sound felt genuine. For a moment, she imagined waking up without an alarm, walking beside the sea, and spending an entire afternoon without checking her phone. "All right," she said. Nina stared at her. "All right what?" "Let's go to Ibiza." Nina nearly dropped her glass. "Are you serious?" "Tomorrow, if possible." "Oh, this is going to be interesting." "Please don't tell anyone yet." Nina's smile softened. "I won't. But promise me something." "What?" "Don't spend the entire trip worrying about what Julian thinks. This is for you." Alessia looked down at her hands. "I'll try." For the first time that evening, the future seemed to offer something other than another obligation. --- At 12:48 a.m., Alessia left the gala alone. Julian caught up with her near the entrance. "Where are you going?" "Home." "We came together." "And we can leave separately." He stared at her. "Is this still about the tour?" "I'm tired, Julian." "So am I." "Then you understand." His expression changed. "You're embarrassing me." Alessia glanced around the lobby. Nobody was paying attention. "Nobody is watching us." "I am." For a moment, she saw something cold in his eyes. Then he reached for her hand and softened his voice. "Come home with me. We'll talk properly, and tomorrow everything will seem less serious." She wanted to believe him. She remembered the man who had once sat beside her in a recording studio and promised that he would love her even when the cameras were gone. But lately, every disagreement ended the same way. She was expected to calm down, apologize, and move on. "Goodnight, Julian." She stepped outside and entered the waiting car Nina had arranged. As London passed beyond the window, her phone vibrated. JULIAN: We need to talk tomorrow. A second message followed. JULIAN: Don't make decisions you'll regret. Alessia locked her phone. Tomorrow, she was leaving for Ibiza. She would deal with the consequences when she returned. For now, she wanted one thing: a little peace. --- At 2:07 a.m., Alessia sat on the edge of her bed, preparing to sleep. Her phone vibrated. An unknown number. UNKNOWN: If you're going to Ibiza, stay away from Adrian Voss. She frowned. Who was Adrian Voss? She typed a response. ALESSIA: Who is this? No reply came. She searched the name online. Several business articles appeared, describing Adrian Voss as a wealthy investor with interests in luxury hotels and private resorts across Europe. Then she found his photograph. He stood beside a yacht, dressed in a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His expression was serious, his eyes unusually intense. Alessia had never seen him before. Another message arrived. UNKNOWN: He is not the man you think he is. Her stomach tightened. She remembered something from earlier that evening. While Julian had been distracted at the gala, his phone had lit up beside her. She had not intended to read the message, but the name on the screen had caught her attention. Voss has arrived. The Ibiza meeting is still on. Does Alessia know? A second message had appeared beneath it. Make sure she doesn't find out what happened last time. At the time, she had dismissed it as business. Now, staring at the warning on her own phone, she wasn't so sure. Why was Julian meeting someone named Voss in Ibiza? And why would someone warn her to stay away from him? Her phone rang. The unknown number. Alessia answered immediately. "Who are you?" Silence. "Why are you sending me these messages?" A faint sound came through the line, followed by a man's voice. "Cancel your trip, Miss Moreau." "Why?" "Because once you meet Adrian Voss, you'll wish you had stayed in London." The call ended. Alessia sat perfectly still, the phone pressed against her ear. She should cancel the trip. Any sensible person would. Instead, she opened her flight confirmation and stared at the departure time. Ten-thirty in the morning. She had spent years allowing other people to decide what she could do, where she could go, and whom she could trust. She wasn't going to let an anonymous stranger frighten her into staying home. She would go to Ibiza. She would enjoy her holiday. And she would stay away from Adrian Voss. At least, that was what she told herself.