The afternoon air was warm, tinged with salt from the sea breeze.
Ibiza was slowly coming alive in the distance, music drifting faintly from the clubs and beachside bars, but Izan barely paid it any mind.
He was still by the pool, watching the people go about their business.
The villa had quieted down, most of the Saint Laurent team wrapping up for the day.
The shoot with Selene had gone smoothly—effortless chemistry, sharp frames, everything exactly as the brand had envisioned.
Selene had left a while ago, teasing him about "living the dream" before heading to her own plans for the night.
Miranda was still in a meeting with Henry, fine-tuning contract details. That left Izan here, alone for the first time in what felt like forever.
And he welcomed it.
But, of course, peace never lasted long.
A group of girls had gathered by the villa entrance, whispering and throwing glances in his direction.
