Page 67 of Hot Momosa

“Thank you.” I couldn’t tell if I’d actually said the words out loud, but it was the thought that counted.

Gunnar’s tantrum reached epic proportions. The boy screamed and shouted and screamed some more. Most of what he’d said was a garbled wailing, but I distinctly heard, “Leo’s dead!”

“Oh God, no.” I scrambled to my feet.

Had the stalker gotten in the condo? Had he surprised Leo before he’d left for his fishing trip?

I hit the hall in a blind panic and burst into the guest room.

Stuart stood with his back to the door staring down at the bed. At first, I thought he was watching Gunnar have a meltdown, but the boy was on the floor beside him. I had no idea what was in the bed, but it appeared lumpy and large enough to be a man.

“Is it Leo?” My feet refused to move.

Stuart reached forward and scooped something in his hand before turning to me. “The fish is…sleeping.”

I glanced at the bed and noted the pillows piled under the blankets and blew out a breath. It wasn’t a man in the bed—it was a fort built by a little boy for his beloved pet.

“Leo Fish sleeping?” Gunnar’s voice cracked.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Please stop crying.” I attempted to hug him, but he wanted no part of it.

His gaze remained fixed on Stuart’s hands.

Pressing my hands to my temples, I closed my eyes and drew a shaky breath. “I heard Leo’s name…and saw you standing there. I thought…”

The bodyguard dropped the goldfish back into its bowl and pulled me into an embrace. “He’s on the boat with the rest of the Marchionnis. Marco’s with them. He has security.”

I nodded, but the movement made pain explode behind my eyes.

“Do you want me to call him?”

“Mamma, is Leo Fish sleeping?” Gunnar tapped on the glass.

I shook my head at Stuart and moved to my son’s side. “Looks like it to me.”

“On his back?”

I hated myself for lying, but I wasn’t in the frame of mind to explain the circle of life to a two-year-old. “Fifi sleeps on her back with her legs in the air all the time.”

He nodded. “I want Poodle-teers.”

“Okay.”

Gunnar bolted from the room.

Stuart scratched his jaw, wrinkled his nose, and sniffed his fingers. “You might want to have the little guy wash his hands.”

“What happened to the goldfish?”

“Best I can tell? Gunnar used it like a teddy bear last night.”

“And this is why toddlers can’t have nice things.” It was my turn to wrinkle my nose. At some point during the confusion, the migraine medicine had finally kicked in. The roar in my skull had quieted to a whine.

Stuart gave me a knowing look. “Go lie back down. I’ll keep an eye on Gunnar until you feel better.”

As much as I would have loved a little more sleep, I didn’t have time. “I’m expected in Baton Rouge this morning at ten. Would you mind driving me?”

“Of course not.” His shoulders tensed. “Does Leo know you’re leaving the condo?”

---