OWNED BY FOUR BILLIONAIRES

Ari’s pov

I pushed through the glass doors of Kane enterprise and the air conditioning hit me like a slap. Marble floors. Gold trim. A reception desk big enough for a car.

My heels clicked too loudly. Too poor.

The receptionist didn’t look up at first. When she did, her nose scrunched like she’d smelled something sour. She took in my pencil skirt, the shirt I’d borrowed from my aunt that was missing two buttons, and the Target blazer trying to pretend it was designer.

“Hi,” I said. Voice steady. Fake it. “I have a meeting scheduled with Mr. Kane.”

Her manicured nail tapped the keyboard once. Twice. Then she gave me the same once-over that the guard at the door had. Slow. Thorough. Like I was a call girl who’d wandered into the wrong lobby.

“Mr. Kane didn’t inform me about any meeting,” she said. Smile sweet, eyes sharp. “Are you sure you have the right building, dear?”

Dear.

My jaw tightened. The missing buttons on my shirt suddenly felt like a confession. I smoothed a hand down the skirt anyway. I might be broke, but I wasn’t invisible.

“Check again,” I told her. “Four Mr. Kanes. Ten o’clock. To be their assistant.”

Her smile slipped half an inch.

Footsteps echoed behind me. Polished shoes on marble. I turned back only to spot Luca Kane.

He moved through the lobby as if he owned it, well technically he did. The navy suit clung to his shoulders, tailored to a criminal degree. He stopped a few feet away and let his eyes drag over me, slow enough to make my borrowed shirt look thinner.

His gaze flicked to his watch. A smirk pulled at one corner of his mouth. “Ms Sinclair, you're late”

He says with this flirty look in his eyes.

“I was stuck in traffic.” I managed. My voice came out steadier than my pulse.

He didn’t answer right away. Just studied me for a minute. Dragging his eyes over my exposed breasts.

“Well,” he said finally, voice low. “We can’t keep the boys waiting.” He turned without waiting for me to follow. I had no choice but to fall in step behind him, leaving the receptionist and her judgment behind. The door opened and the office swallowed us in.

Three men sat at a long black table facing the door. Damien in the center, Elias to his right, and Noah Reyes beside him. Luca’s brothers. His best friend. All four of them were watching me like I was prey that had just walked into their den.

Luca took the seat between Damien and Elias. The last chair at the table. Mine.

Damien didn’t smile. He didn’t have to. His voice was dark velvet and sharp enough to cut.

“Sit.”

I sat down instantly. Damien didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

He slid a folder across the black table. It stopped perfectly in front of me, like everything else in this room was calculated.

My fingers hovered over it. “What is this?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile.

“A contract,” he said. Nothing else.

I flipped it open. Legal jargon. Clauses. Then one line circled in red, like blood: Term: 6 months. Non-negotiable.

Six months.

The word echoed in my head. No explanation. No softening. Just that single line staring back at me.

“What..” I couldn’t even finish. The air got too thin.

I looked up.

All four of them were watching me. Damien’s gaze was steel, cold, and absolute. Luca’s lips were parted like he was waiting for me to argue. Elias hadn’t blinked once. And Noah… Noah was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

No one offered to explain. No one needed to.

They’d already decided I was theirs for six months.