OOPS! I MARRIED A BILLIONAIRE.

CHAPTER THREE: SIGNED.

Amarae

The club was alive, pulsing with heavy bass that vibrated through my chest and colorful lights that danced across barely-covered bodies. Nudity, sweat, and expensive perfume hung thick in the air. I liked it. I hadn’t stepped into a place like this since I got my last job — I didn’t want to risk ruining a good thing by getting too excited and later confessing to my boss how I shook my ass on the stripper pole or hooked up with the hottest guy in the club.

My imagination really was wild tonight.

“I’ll be in the VIP section. My boss is there,” Justin said, flashing Williams a quick smile before disappearing toward the exclusive area.

Justin gave him a nod and headed off.

“Okay, girl, it’s just you and me,” Williams grinned, grabbing my hand and pulling me straight toward the bar. “Let’s get you in the mood.”

I glanced back just in time to see Justin enter the VIP lounge. Through the briefly parted curtains, I caught a glimpse of a man seated in the shadows. His left hand rested on his chin, his face hard and unreadable like carved stone. He exuded power. Even from a distance, the intensity around him was impossible to ignore. Justin bowed slightly before the guard closed the heavy curtains, shutting the world out.

Williams slid a shot of tequila in front of me.

We counted down together — “Three… two… one” — and threw the shots back.

The liquid burned down my throat like fire. I squeezed my face tightly, eyes watering. “Tequila is no joke!”

“Who was that guy?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. “The one Justin works with?”

Williams looked at me, then smiled knowingly. “Don’t go all nosy, Miss Amara.”

I pouted dramatically. When he didn’t budge, I grabbed another shot and downed it in one go. The burn was worth it.

“Okay, okay,” Williams sighed, relenting. “I’ll tell you, but promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

I nodded immediately, leaning in like an eager schoolgirl.

“That’s Ethan Blackwood.” He took another shot. “According to Justin, he’s a billionaire. Owns most of the major companies in this area.”

My heart skipped.

If he owns almost every company around here… then maybe he could give me a job.

That was smart. Genius, even.

“Huh… that’s great,” I said casually, trying to hide the spark of hope igniting in my chest.

“I know, right? And he’s insanely hot. You should see him up close,” Williams added with a dreamy sigh.

I turned to him, eyebrows raised. “You know, for someone who has a loving partner like Justin, you’re one damn slut.”

We both burst into loud laughter, the kind that turned heads and made the bartender smile. For a moment, the weight of my failures felt lighter, drowned out by the music, the alcohol, and the electric energy of the night.

But deep down, I couldn’t stop thinking about Ethan Blackwood — the powerful man behind the curtain.

And the ridiculous idea that maybe, just maybe, tonight could change everything.

After downing six or seven shots of tequila, my legs had officially gone on strike. I could barely feel my feet. The whole club had turned into a wobbly, spinning funhouse. Faces blurred together, lights smeared across my vision, and keeping my head upright felt like trying to balance a bowling ball on a toothpick. Williams was just as gone as I was — we kept bursting into random laughter at nothing, grinning like idiots.

But my brain had one clear mission: the VIP section.

Williams was an incredible friend, always trying to keep me from doing anything too chaotic. Tonight, though, I needed to betray him for the greater good — saving my own life.

I scanned the crowded dance floor and spotted my golden opportunity: a tall, shirtless guy with killer tattoos, including the beautiful butterfly design Williams and I had gotten together. His lower half was on full display, and he was already eyeing Williams.

Mission accomplished. Williams could never resist a hot, tattooed man.

“I need to pee!” I yelled dramatically, tugging on Williams’ arm.

“Girl, as much as I wish I could follow you, you’re on your own for this one,” he slurred, waving vaguely toward the bathroom.

I nodded with exaggerated seriousness and stumbled away. But I didn’t head for the restroom. Instead, I stopped right beside the tattooed guy.

“He’s single!” I shouted over the music, pointing back at Williams. “But not for long — better make your move now!” I winked exaggeratedly and kept walking like a woman on a secret mission.

Glancing back, I saw the guy already closing in on Williams, whose face lit up with instant interest. Perfect.

In my dangerously drunk state, I sneaked past them, the world tilting dangerously around me, and finally reached the VIP curtains. My eyes were heavy, my balance was nonexistent, but determination burned through the tequila haze.

I need Ethan Blackwood. He has to give me a job.

I took a deep breath, pushed the curtains open, and stepped inside.

The entire lounge went silent. Every head snapped toward me.

Justin, holding a thick stack of documents, looked like he’d seen a ghost. He dropped the papers with a clatter and rushed forward.

“What the hell are you doing here, Amara?!” he hissed, equal parts shocked and horrified.

I patted his shoulder comfortingly and waved my hand like I was calming a wild animal. “Relax, Justin. I’m just here to have a little chat with Ethan Blackwood.”

A drunken, beaming smile spread across my face. The whole room froze.

Justin rubbed his face hard with both palms, looking like he wanted to disappear. He glanced nervously at the man seated in the center.

The man in the impeccably tailored black suit. Ethan Blackwood.

His sharp eyes locked onto me with laser focus. He slowly raised a hand, silencing Justin mid-sentence, then leaned forward slightly, studying me with an intensity that cut through my drunken fog.

“I’m Ethan,” he said, his deep, smooth voice sending a small shiver down my spine. “How may I help you, Miss?”

I grinned widely, genuinely thrilled. He was actually listening! My fingers toyed nervously with the thin strap of my short black mini gown as I swayed on my feet.

“Well, it’s simple,” I announced, my words slightly slurred. “I need a job. And I heard you’re a really big deal around here, so… can you give me one?” I finished with an innocent pout, looking up at him like a five-year-old asking for ice cream.

Justin sighed deeply in frustration and reached for his phone. Ethan raised his hand again, stopping him without a word.

A slow, amused smirk began to form on Ethan’s lips.

“Most girls come to me telling me how much they want me,” he said, voice laced with dark amusement. “But you… You just want a job?”

He sounded genuinely surprised, but his eyes sparkled with intrigue as he watched me.

“Oh no, I don’t want you,” I blurted out without thinking. “You’re not my type.”

The entire room went deathly silent. Justin looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

“Really?” Ethan asked, one eyebrow arched, clearly entertained now. The smirk on his face deepened, and he leaned back in his seat, studying me like I was the most fascinating creature he’d ever encountered.

“Yes. I just need a job,” I repeated earnestly.

“Unbelievable, Amara,” Justin groaned.

I shushed him loudly.

“Amarae, is that right?” Ethan’s rich voice rang out again, now openly amused.

“Amara John!” I replied with full enthusiasm, beaming at him.

“I certainly have a job for you,” he said. The way he said it — low, smooth, and far too pleased — made Justin sigh again and pick up the documents.

“Really? Yes! I knew it would work!” I cheered, jumping around the VIP lounge like I’d just won the lottery. I nearly crashed into a table before Justin caught me.

“The job is—” Ethan began, clearly fighting back a full smile.

“Wait! To show you how badly I want to work with you, I’m signing my work documents right now!” I declared boldly.

“Wait, what—?”

Before anyone could react, I snatched the pen from the table. Justin lunged to stop me, but Ethan held him back with a single gesture, his eyes never leaving me. There was clear amusement dancing in them now — a powerful, dangerous kind of amusement.

I grabbed the documents and signed them with messy, enthusiastic strokes — first page, second page, third page.

“Done!” I announced triumphantly, dropping the pen like a mic drop and spinning around in victory, nearly losing my balance.

“Oh, Amara…” Justin sighed, defeated.

“Good girl, Amara John,” Ethan said, his voice low and rich with dark amusement. He watched me celebrate with a slow, captivating smile that made my drunken heart skip a beat. He looked thoroughly entertained, like I had just become the highlight of his entire night.

I had no idea what I had just signed.

But in that hazy, tequila-soaked moment, I felt like a genius.