Page 221 of Ruthless Kings of Havoc

The more I speak it out loud, the easier it is to see that I may have been getting ahead of myself.

I decide to take the lead in leaving, opening the door slightly so I can peer through and ensure no one is around. Slipping out first, I signal him to wait a bit as two squealing girls pass by with popcorn and drinks in their hands.

Once they’re gone, I continue the conversation as I allow Ares out.

“I should have asked you guys first,” I end up admitting. “Sorry. I can wait until the next event to do it?”

“Do what?”

I look up, surprised to see Zander towering over me in hockey gear. He’s even wearing his helmet, making me realize how much bigger he looks all suited up. I gawk without realizing it, igniting those green eyes to dance with excitement.

“Look at my Sweet Dynamite. All smitten for me as I head to my first league game. Are you going to be cheering me on?”

“Ugh, no,” I groan and try to walk away, but his gloved hand stops me, pressing me back against his padded frame. I realize he must be playing goalie in today’s game.

“Why do you look so delicious?”

“You’re completely distracting her from the conversation she was having.” I’m surprised to hear Marcus’ annoyed voice, prompting me to look further right to see he’s been standing next to Zander this whole while.

He’s also in hockey gear, looking just as buff. I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks, but damn. He has to be training as hard as Matteo and Zander because the three of them bulked up in muscle for this game.

He admires me for an added second, taking in my hair with intrigue.

“Haven’t seen you in this style for years, Pigtails,” he notes with a hint of admiration in his voice. It’s unexpected. “You’re missing the bows.”

“Bows…” It takes me a few seconds before I groan in realization. “No! I was going to buy some at the store. The jersey being out distracted me,” I complain.

Ares moves to stand on my right side, blocking my view from Marcus as he answers my previous statement.

“You don’t need to apologize if you want to donate your hair. You can do it today if you want. Though it may be a good idea to ask Matteo, just in case,” Ares suggests. “If we can’t do it today, we can go to the organization itself and get it done. That and a big donation from us should be good.”

“You’re donating your hair?” Zander says with a gasp.

“A-Are you mad?” The mere idea of Zander not liking it makes my stomach queasy. I want his approval, especially.I’m a little biased.“I was thinking about it.”

“For the cancer research?” he asks for elaboration, which has me nodding as I look up at his upside-down view. “Does it take your hair long to grow? I thought females were all antsy when it comes to their hair?”

“I don’t mind if it’s for a good cause,” I offer. “Been thinking about it for a few weeks now, but I guess seeing the advertising in the pamphlet regarding the cause and contribution to research, I figured why not. The hair can make a nice wig for someone. A teenager who wants silver hair. I don’t know. It probably won’t be enough to be my length, but maybe a short pixie cut?”

Ares and Zander share a look, and I expect them to shoot the idea down, but Zander hugs me and pats my head with his helmet, which I assume is his way of kissing the top of my head.

“Do it.”

“R-Really?” I’m surprised by his encouragement. “What about Matteo?”

“I’ll tell him when he gets to the benches. He’s having a meeting with some lead sports managers. I think there’s already several teams wanting to offer him a multi-million-dollar deal.”

I gawk in surprise before I spin in his hold to look at him properly.

“No fucking way!”

“Mhmm.” Zander’s smile is full of pride. “News is already spreading fast. I think he’s going to be signed before he even plays on the ice. I’m sure he’ll be moved that you want to do something so sacrificial as cutting your hair and donating it.”

He uses his glove to ruffle my locks.

“You may be acting like it isn’t a big deal, but it’s something a lot of women can’t do. It’s important to you, so do it. At the end of the game, if we’re not bombarded with paparazzi, we’ll try to pass by their table and make a hefty contribution,” he offers. “I think they partner with some of the research Matteo does to aid in permanent disabilities in cancer patients, so he’d be on board.”

“O-Okay.” I’m beaming at the idea as excitement bubbles through me. “Don’t get mad, though, when you can’t tug my hair when railing me.”

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