Page 34 of Reckless Forever (Jennings Mafia Family #3)

Ivy

“Look up for me, baby,” the makeup artist murmured, her tone soft but firm.

She stood at my side with her palette balanced in one hand and her brushes in the front of her black apron, like tools.

I did as she asked, letting my eyes lift toward the ceiling, focusing on the beauty of the chandelier above me.

I tried to hold perfectly still while she traced the line of my lashes.

It wasn’t easy; too much was happening all at once.

The hairstylist stood behind me with a dozen pins in her mouth, molding the curls of my hair into what I had requested.

Something soft but beautiful, with my veil draped across her arm like a towel.

At my feet, my wedding coordinator kneeled with a bottle of oil in hand, smoothing it into my legs so they were nice and moisturized.

Three sets of hands pulling, brushing, fixing, molding. And I was stuck in the middle of it, still trying to recover from last night.

Hungover was an understatement. My head felt like it had been put in a dryer, and I was struggling not to support it with my hand.

When Judah warned me to be “prepared to hang with Storm,” I didn’t think that this was what he meant.

I assumed that he meant she was the type who didn’t know when to call it a night.

But no. Storm was a different breed altogether.

She was wild, liberated in ways I hadn’t allowed myself to be in years.

She moved like the world belonged to her, and I’m sure that her husband made sure that it did.

Last night, she pulled me into her world faster than I could control.

Shots that I couldn’t count, and on the terrace of a lounge, dancing until my feet were aching in my red bottoms. I was still so drunk that if I closed my eyes, I could still feel the bass in my chest, still hear Storm laughing as she challenged me to outdrink her. I didn’t win. But I still tried.

I should have been curled up in the dark with an IV in my arm. But instead, I was being sculpted into a bride fit for a family like this. Honestly, I loved every second and was probably about to get ready to do it all over again tonight.

“Knock, knock.”

The voice barely came through the thick wooden door, but I heard it. The stylists paused for a beat, and my coordinator moved to answer. But a moment later, the door cracked open, and Ms. Meena slipped inside.

She was already dressed, and a smile spread on my face as soon as I caught sight of her.

She came in a floor-length black gown, diamonds dancing in her ears, hair pulled back into a bun so sleek that not a single hair looked out of place.

Everything about her said that she was the wife of a boss, and she gave birth to them too.

“Oh my gosh,” She gasped at me as she brought her hands to my chin. I smiled at her as I gave her another glance. That dress she was wearing was jaw-dropping, and I wouldn’t miss the chance to tell her that.

“You look great, that dress is to die for.”

“Storm’s mother, Yandi, designed it for me. I can give you her contact. I hope you don’t mind me coming in,” she said softly.

“It’s fine,” I told her honestly. It was more than fine; over the last month, she had been wonderful company. She made sure that my adjustment to the states was seamless. When Judah was out working, if I wasn’t at the estate, I’d be with her.

“Good, because I know it’s usually the mother of the bride who helps her get ready. If you don’t mind, I can step in for you.” Her smile softened as she set her clutch on the edge of the vanity and waited for my response.

Her words hit me instantly. A tear broke loose before I could stop it, running hot down my cheek.

“Aww, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” she said quickly, shooing away the stylist with the mascara wand so she could lean in and console me. The hug was so motherly that it instantly calmed me. It was comforting in a way that I didn’t know I needed.

“That means a lot to me, thank you.” My voice cracked as I tried to pull it together.

She pulled back and gave me a look that said she meant business.

“Girl, we are celebrating love today. You and my youngest headache are getting married. No time for tears.” She grabbed a sponge from the makeup artist’s hand like she wasn’t even standing there and dabbed my makeup like she had been paid to do it.

Everything about it, the words, the gesture, the consideration, was just so genuine. Everybody always talked about the importance of a village. And in this moment, it solidified that I had mine now. The only thing was that my “village” didn’t look like other people’s.

The makeup artist sprayed my face and gave me a fan to hold. Then my coordinator gave the photographer the okay to come up.

Me and Ms. Meena took my first set of pictures together. There were shots with her helping me into my dress, adjusting my hair, and putting on my veil. I was touched by the moment. But as soon as I got dressed, it was go time, and I had to be downstairs so we could drive to the venue.

I was less nervous, and I guess it came from the fact that Judah and I had already gotten married in private. If not for that, I would probably be a mess right now. It was crazy how even when I didn’t speak about things, he always found a way to know exactly what I needed.

The truck didn’t have long to drive before we reached the venue. Even I sat up straight when I looked out of the window. The Cartel was here.

Armed guards in tailored suits stood by every exit. Black SUVs lined the perimeter of the street, tinted windows rolled up tight. Security had been doubled for the day. Men littered the outside, and I saw weapons underneath their blazers and some in plain sight.

This wasn’t just a wedding. It was a summit.

The mafia families. The cartel bosses. The “businessmen” who had traveled from overseas and foreign countries. They weren’t just here for vows and cake. They were here to witness the union that would bring two worlds together as one.

Storm joked about it last night, somewhere between tequila shots and dancing on a velvet couch. This ain’t just a wedding, girl. You’re about to sign your life away.

She wasn’t wrong.

My eyes landed on the bulletproof Hummer fleet, and my heart smiled because I knew that Padrino was here.

Ms. Meena took my hand and squeezed it once. I had forgotten that she was in the car with me as I took in the scene. I turned to her, and she smiled. “You walk out there, and you remember who you are. You’re not just marrying into this life. You have to own it. Understand?”

I nodded.

Hollow opened the door for me, and we stepped out of the truck. I was greeted by many of the familiar faces of the Cartel as the coordinator guided me to the bridal room. She opened the door, and there sat Padrino, dressed in all black and twisting his ring around on his finger.

When I went in, he stood up to greet me. I rushed into his arms and hugged him.

“I told you I was coming. I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to walk you down the aisle if my life depended on it.” He said in Spanish.

“Thank you, I love you,” I said as I kissed his cheek, and we caught up while the coordinator got the ceremony underway.

“Alright, Mrs. Jennings, it’s your time to walk out. Let’s go.” She called for me, and I waited for Padrino to fix his suit before I took his arm, and we walked to the door.

This wasn’t just family. This was power, gathered under one roof, watching.

And in the middle of it all, it was me.

Mrs. Judah Jennings.

“And I apologize if this message gets you down, then I CC’d every girl that I see, see round town.”

The words from Andre 3000 had the room shaking as Judah and I walked out into our wedding reception to Int’l Players Anthem hand in hand.

Everyone was on their feet, clapping and welcoming us.

The building was packed to capacity with both the Mafia and my Bolivian family.

My cousin Esme had also come. She was determined to show up and be a bridesmaid, and even got fitted for her dress in Bolivia, sending her measurements over to the designer as if it were nothing.

The music rattled the chandeliers, and for a moment, it felt less like a wedding and more like the kind of celebration only people with blood on their hands and money in their pockets could throw.

The Italians, the Russians, everyone raised glasses in our honor.

My family from Bolivia clapped to the beat, to words they couldn’t understand.

I caught my Padrino in the crowd, sitting straight up in his suit with a glass of dark liquor in hand. His nod to me was sharp and approving, but his eyes stayed watchful, as if he expected danger to be nearby.

Once we reached the center of the floor, I took Judah’s hand, and we danced to two songs.

The first one was the one that he chose.

John Legend “So High.” The second was a traditional Bolivian song.

Although I was an African American woman, I was born and raised in Bolivia; my roots there ran deep, and that’s what made me unique.

To understand that was to understand me, and Judah got that perfectly.

When our dances were over, it was time for us to eat and listen to the speeches. Everyone’s speech was so heartfelt, and I don’t think either of us thought that we would go through the emotions that we did. Storm, Ms. Meena, Esme, Jax, and Trouble’s best man speech tore me up.

"Man, look at you. From the baby of the house to a man who actually knows what the hell he’s doing.

Being grown ain’t easy, bro. It ain’t about age, it’s about knowing when to move and when to stand down.

And you figured that out. Sometimes. You're married, you have responsibilities, all that adult shit. Just remember, being the youngest don’t mean being reckless no more.

It took some fire to get you here, but you made it.

So, raise your glasses to Judah, the youngest of the camp who fears nothing, and still keeps us all on our toes.

And Ivy, you didn’t just gain a husband today.

You gained family. If you don’t have anybody, you got us for life.

You call and we’re coming with zero understanding, so make sure you’re ready to take it there before you call.

” He chuckled as we toasted, and he sat down.

Judah just sat there, head hung, as Trouble spoke.

His voice carried that mix of pride and irritation that only an older sibling could understand.

Judah and Jaxon were glued at the hip; you rarely saw one without the other.

But I knew, deep down, that having Trouble’s stamp of approval meant everything to Judah.

I rubbed his back gently as he finally lifted his head and met Trouble’s gaze.

And then he mouthed the words, “ man up.” That made Trouble laugh.

The rest of the night was beautiful. Me and the girls danced until our hair stuck to our foreheads from sweat. My cousin was right there in the middle of the chaos, shoes off, holding her dress, like she had known them her whole life.

From the corner of my eye, I could see all the men file into the hallway, and I knew that a deal was being made. The unspoken reminder that while we danced, power was moving around us. The cartel had brought gifts that weren’t just lavish, they were strategic, a show of muscle and alliance.

They handed over a coca farm, access to secure routes, and military-grade rifles.

Every item was a promise and a warning at the same time: respect us, and death before dishonor.

Earlier, the Mafia members gave me stacks of money.

Envelopes filled to the brim. More jewelry than I could wear at once, stocks, and accounts.

It was a perfect exchange of power and acceptance.

Once they returned and the night went on, the music, quiet whispers, and the flickering of lighters over cigars all brought our worlds together.

I watched Judah and Jaxon laughing, throwing back drinks, and for a moment, the weight of everything crossed my mind.

The danger, the power, and the war seemed so far behind us that none of it mattered.

It was all supposed to lead to this moment that we were in.

By the end of the night, we were both tipsy. And we both were holding on by a thread. Our families came out to see us off so that we could go back to the hotel before we left for our honeymoon.

Padrino walked us to the truck and pulled Judah into a hug.

“Son,” he said as he patted Judah’s back.

When they parted ways, he told me that he loved me and made us both promise to visit soon. Then he slipped something into my hand and winked before he walked off.

I sat down in the truck and threw my feet across Judah’s lap.

He leaned over, drunk, and kissed me.

“I love you, wife,” he said as he tilted my head back and slipped his tongue into my mouth.

I grabbed the back of his head as I moaned, “I love you, too, husband.”

When we parted, I sat back into the seat, threw my feet over his legs again, and turned on the overhead light to see what my godfather had given me. It was a piece of paper. As soon as I unfolded it, emotion hit me like a ton of bricks as I read the letter.

To my daughter on her wedding day:

Congratulations, I already know that you are the most beautiful bride on the planet.

I may not be there with you in the flesh, but I wanted to make sure that I show up for you as I always have, and as I always will.

If you are reading this, just know that your husband has been put to the test. He has proved that he loves you and that he will protect you with his life just as I have.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. Honor this union and let nothing come between you.

Know that me and your mother will be with you every step of the way to guide you through life.

When you’re up at night looking at the stars for answers.

That’s us. I love you more than life itself.

This is the last thing that I can give you in death. A protector.

Do not fail him. Do not fail me.

-Your Father