When Caroline Fontaine loses her husband and everything that once kept her safe, she’s drawn into the private world of New Orleans’ elite, where obedience is currency and silence is survival. By day, she builds wedding dresses for women still allowed to dream. By night, she’s placed where secrets are kept—and tested. The river doesn’t let go. But it can be turned.
Welcome to The River.
The party was already in full swing when the door opened, and Anastasia ushered Caroline through. Somewhere behind them was the lengthy hall and the horrible washtub, and yet here, in the midst of a grand ballroom, the likes of which she’d only thought possible in movies, she felt more naked and cold then ever.
The door clicked behind her, making her jump, and then Anastasia caught Caroline by the elbow and pulled her forward, moving quickly, parting the black tie crowd like a knife. Caroline kept her eyes forward, Ethan in her sight on the far side of the room, as the auburn-haired mistress pulled her along. She could feel the stares, the heat of the room suddenly ratcheting up several notches. Or was it just her, burning with shame? Couples quieted and turned. Conversations stuttered to a stop. Even the music in the room, a soft symphony of light jazz, seemed to grind to a halt as the entirety of the ball turned to examine the near-naked newcomer.
The dress did nothing to help her, Caroline realized, feeling more exposed now than she had in the tub. At least then she’d been hidden away in a room. Here, she couldn’t help but feel how her breasts bounced with each step, the hem of the dress riding up in back as she tugged it down with her free hand in front.
Was this what Ethan intended? Surely he’d wanted her dressed appropriately. The women she saw, trying not to stare, trying to avoid their eyes, were dressed in gorgeous silks and satins, couture cocktail dresses, the kinds of outfits she’d spent her nights at home scrolling through on social media sites — casual window shopping and dreaming about the luxury her husband would one day bring. Jeweled necklaces and flashy tennis bracelets, diamond earrings and gaudy brooches. Shoes she recognized right away. The room was the Big Easy’s version of Paris Fashion Week, and the women who walked the runways there had nothing on those here.
And beside them, gorgeous men, distinguished gentlemen, and finally, Ethan, in his navy suit and perfect tie. He turned, a smile on his face, his jaw the kind one would find on the cover of a romance novel. Caroline allowed herself a moment to breathe, to laugh at herself, to sink into the charm of his blue eyes. How soft and inviting his stance, arms opening, a whisper of a kiss on his lips as Anastasia released Caroline’s wrist and propelled her into the waiting arms of her future lover. The terror of the moment, the horror of the room of eyes, washed away in an instant. Ethan was there — beautiful, proud, powerful, the man who had claimed her, owned her now — and he would take care of her.
“Ah, my love, Caroline,” he said, his voice a warm baritone with its slight Southern charm. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her forward and into his chest.
Caroline met his kiss, the rest of the room melting away in the moment, and then he spun her around, pulling her in front of him, and she thought she felt the stir of his cock against her bare ass as the dress rode up. She smiled at the couple she’d never met, a wisp of heat between her legs as she pushed back against him, hoping to feel more. “Your friends, Ethan?” This was a party, after all, and even if she was dressed like a party favor, she could act the lady.
“This is Daniella and Colton Simms,” said Ethan, his grip tight around his prize. “I introduce Daniella first because she’s the respectable one — a surgeon at Tulane. Colt here is just a cowpoke, a rodeo jockey from Fort Worth. When he gets a real job…” He let the sentence tail off into laughter, as all three enjoyed the joke.
“He doesn’t bring in the big money, but his wallet’s not why I married him,” said Daniella, her accent definitely not local — more westerly; she was a long way from home. She laughed again, then reached over and pulled her husband’s hand into hers. She was a leggy blonde in a short silver sheath dress, eyes like dark honey, almost as if she’d had that color manufactured.
“Don’t let the smooth taste fool ya,” said Colt. “I can ride anything.” He adjusted his collar, loosening it a little. He didn’t seem like the sort that wore suits, even if the cut of the pinstriped jacket suited him. But it was the dark jeans and cowboy boots that gave it away.
“That’s my line,” said Daniella, her eyes and smile flashing like diamonds. “But what I wouldn’t give,” she said, her eyes roving up and down Caroline’s body. She bit her lip and stepped closer, the scent of vanilla and bourbon filling Caroline’s nose as the blonde leaned in. Her eyes darted to Ethan, then back to Caroline. “May I? You’ve quite the filly here.”
“Of course,” said Ethan. “Don’t ever let it be said I didn’t cater to my guests’ needs.” Before Caroline understood what was happening, Ethan had slipped his hand up to her throat. A gentle squeeze as his other hand cupped her right breast and then slid the dress down, exposing her. Caroline gasped, stiffening, her hands coming up to cover herself. “Don’t, dahling,” said Ethan, squeezing her throat a little tighter. “Hands down,” he breathed into her ear, his breath hot on her neck, and she felt him stiffen against her ass. “Don’t want to offend the guests.”
Her hands fell, and she leaned into Ethan, unsure and suddenly afraid. Is this what he wanted? Is this why she was…? Why she wasn’t wearing a beautiful dress like the others? Crawling into the house on her hands and knees, an icy shower, and now a dress that barely covered her. What was she to Ethan?
Caroline shuddered when Daniella’s pink tongue darted out and circled her nipple. She watched it stiffen, felt the rush between her legs, the heat in her face. Daniella’s eyes flashed up, finding Caroline’s, her grin widening as she saw the flush of heat in her cheeks.
“She likes it, Ethan,” she said, and her tongue flicked out across the nipple again.
Caroline shivered, chills expanding in all directions from her nipple, goosebumps rising across her skin. She shifted and gasped as the young blonde’s lips closed around her nipple, sucking gently. The hint of teeth, and then her tongue again darting out from between her plump lips, teasing Caroline until she was squirming in Ethan’s grasp.
“Let’s try this,” she said, her eyes still firmly on Caroline, watching the older woman’s reaction. “A little taste of champagne? You haven’t even had a glass, sugar, and I’m three in.” She lifted her glass to her lips, took a sip, and then leaned in, pressing her lips against Caroline’s, her mouth opening, and she filled Caroline’s mouth with champagne, her tongue following with a kiss.
The champagne dripped down her chin, Caroline shocked but trying to keep up. The warm lips on hers, the tongue in her mouth, Ethan’s cock hard and pressing into her ass, and then fingers on her nipple, pulling and twisting. She groaned, eyes opening. It was Colt, his meaty hand reaching around from behind his wife to torment her hardened bud. And then Ethan’s voice in her ear again. “I think they like you, dahling. Hands at your side, my love. Let them have you,” he said, and he stepped away, leaving her standing there as Colt circled and took Ethan’s place.
Author’s Note: I wasn’t sure how to proceed with this story. I started with the barest of outlines — little more than a beginning and ending, to be honest. And I realized that this was exactly what I needed and how I should have been doing this. By the seat of my pants. I literally had only the slightest idea what was going to happen in this party scene when I started writing this. Daniella and Colt appeared out of nowhere, and what they did and what Ethan did didn’t even exist in my head until I started that paragraph introducing the couple.
This is the most fun part of writing for me — finding out what’s going to happen when I don’t even know myself. The story just writes itself, and I just type.
Caroline is learning right now her first lesson is what her new life is going to be like. The next episode will continue this scene, and things are going to become clearer to Caroline that she’s not Ethan’s mate, lover, or sweetheart. She is his slave.