And then, the call from heaven: Roc Nation. At first, she thought her grandmother was ringing her from Kosovo. But it was America on the line, requesting that she fly across the ocean to audition for Jay Z’s executives and meet the man himself. She did — and earned a contract on the spot.

Nearly seven years later — an eternity in pop years — Ora is focused on what she wants for the new record. And that is to release it worldwide on the same day. She lobbied her label hard for this, pushing back even when management told her it would be better to focus on her European fan base. “It’s been seven years,” she groans, then asks her assistant for a cup of Earl Grey tea with lemon. “And it has been a bit of a battle. With the first record, we didn’t expand to the United States. Label-wise, they said, it wasn’t the right time. I was only 19 or 20, and I was so excited to be making music and performing live. I didn’t know better. But now I do. I told them, ‘Look, I just want to release my album everywhere.’ Everybody thinks that they know best. But I won the battle.”

And along the way, Ora has done everything right to position herself for global domination. She’s become associated with the fashion world, with her signature red lip, Marilyn-blonde locks, and bold ensembles that few other people could pull off (thigh-high PVC boots, abdomen-bearing cutout dresses, leather corsets and mesh bustiers). And she has grown up. When I speak to her, she seems calm and centered, nothing like the wild party girl that gossip blogs keep insisting she is, reporting on her every outing with a new potential love interest. When I ask her about her personal life playing out as a tabloid drama, she says she has moved past caring.