Liam sat on the shaded porch, his bare feet resting on the warm wooden boards, the sea whispering just beyond the dune grass. Carlo was pretending to be busy inside, fussing over shirt choices that he didn’t care about - white linen or pale blue chambray - as if their entire future depended on which shade caught the light better. But in reality, he was giving Liam the privacy to speak to his father after they discussed, and agreed with, Gustavo’s advice from earlier. Liam smiled and lifted his phone to his ear.
“Pa?”
“Liam,” Willem answered, sounding both surprised and pleased. “All good?”
Liam exhaled softly, the breeze teasing the edge of his robe. “Yeah. I just wanted to thank you. For yesterday. For giving us some space. It meant more than you probably realize.”
Willem was quiet a moment. “Well… your mother insisted,” he said with a gruff warmth. “Said the house needed to breathe a little. She surprised me a bit, I must say. You know how she never has a way of… reading the room.”
Liam chuckled. “That sounds like Ma, you’re right.”
Another pause. Then Willem cleared his throat. “You sound… happy, son.”
Liam’s smile deepened. “I am. Really.”
“Well then,” Willem said, voice softening. “That’s all I need to know.”
“There’s one more thing,” Liam added. “Carlo and I would love to take you and Ma out for dinner tonight. That little seafood spot on the rocks near the cove that we always love going to. It’s quiet, local, no fuss. I think Carlo would also like it.”
Willem hesitated, the silence stretching a moment longer than usual. “I have my doubts, Liam,” he admitted gently. “But… I’ll come. We’ll both come.”
“Dankie, Pa.”
The sun hung low over the ocean as the four of them met on the worn path leading to the restaurant. Carlo wore a cream linen shirt rolled up at the sleeves, open at the chest just enough to tease, paired with tailored navy slacks and worn leather sandals. Liam was in khaki drawstring trousers, a loose olive tee, and a faded straw hat he’d found in the cottage’s laundry room. They looked relaxed. Real.
Anna greeted them with a soft embrace, kissing Liam’s cheek, then Carlo’s. Willem extended his hand to Carlo, who took it without hesitation.
“Mr. Marais,” Carlo said, eyes earnest. “Before anything else… I owe you both an apology. I should have asked to meet you earlier. I should have asked permission to court your son, the way he deserves. And I’m sorry I didn’t.”
Both Anna and Willem blinked. That wasn’t what they’d expected.
Carlo continued, his accent a shade thicker, more emotional. “Where I’m from, in Bologna, that’s how it’s done. But I was racing to get to Liam. It won’t happen again.”
Willem looked at him long and hard, then gave a single nod. “Well. You’re here now. And you’re speaking to us like a man. That counts for something.”
They were seated at a table set just above the sand, under a pergola draped in bougainvillaea. Lanterns flickered gently in the dusk. A waiter brought water and wine, and soon they were nibbling on olives and warm bread with whipped anchovy butter.
Conversation eased in slowly. Carlo asked Willem about the local fishing conditions. Anna complimented Carlo’s pronunciation when he explained a regional name for sea bream. But it was after the first course - grilled calamari and mussels - that the mood shifted.
“I suppose we should talk about the elephant in the room,” Willem said, not unkindly, setting down his fork. “You left my son in Los Angeles. Then you had a meltdown on the evening news. And now you’re here.”
Carlo sat straighter. “You’re right. I did abandon Liam. I was a coward. I let fear and expectation dictate my choices - and I broke his heart. My own heart was shattered because of my cowardice. And I had to come here because I realized losing him scared me more than losing the crown.”
Willem studied him. “What about the crown?”
Carlo gave a small shrug. “It’s complicated. I’ll return to Bologna soon, and when I do, I’ll have to face the consequences of loving your son. But I’m ready to do that. I don’t want to hide anymore.”
Anna’s expression softened. “That can’t be easy. But… you came all this way.”
“I didn’t just come,” Carlo said gently. “I stayed. Because Liam stayed. And because, now that I know what it feels like to be loved by someone like him… I won’t let that go.”
The main courses arrived - Mediterranean line fish with roasted fennel and orange quinoa for the parents, while Liam and Carlo shared a platter of grilled prawns and saffron risotto. The wine flowed easier now, their laughter softening the tension.
Toward the end of the meal, Carlo cleared his throat.
“There’s one more thing,” he said. “We’re not going to impose on you any longer. I rented a villa nearby. It’s more private. Secure.”
Anna immediately waved a hand. “You’re not imposing. We both would love having you - ”
Liam cut in with a look at his father. A look that said please help me out here before she offers us matching guest towels.
Willem, catching it perfectly, set down his napkin. “Anna,” he said mildly. “They’re young. In love. And probably trying to have a lot of loud sex without us in the next room.”
Anna sputtered with laughter, cheeks flushing. “Willem!”
Carlo covered his face, laughing, while Liam just groaned into his hands. “Dankie Pa,” he said dryly.
Willem grinned, unapologetic. “I wasn’t always a dad, you know. I remember how it goes.”
The table broke into warm laughter. The night stretched long and sweet, like the air off the sea - thick with promise, and the slow unravelling of walls that had once seemed impenetrable.
The waiter returned, clearing the main course plates with the quiet efficiency of someone used to long meals and longer conversations. He handed out dessert menus, but Anna waved him off. “I already know what I want,” she said brightly. “That dark chocolate mousse cake with the hazelnut praline.”
Willem nodded. “And I’ll take the crème brûlée. Can’t leave here without at least one.”
Liam smiled at Carlo. “We’ll share the affogato.”
Carlo nodded. “Perfect.”
The waiter nodded. “Coming right up.”
As he walked off, Carlo turned toward Liam with a soft laugh. “‘Dankie, Pa,’” he repeated, mimicking Liam’s earlier words to Willem. “What does it mean, exactly?”
Liam chuckled, wiping a bit of wine from his lip with a napkin. “It means ‘Thank you, Dad’ in our home language, Afrikaans.”
Carlo’s smile deepened as he turned to Willem. “Then… Dankie, Pa. For tonight.”
Willem let out a low, amused grunt. “If you’re going to call me that, you better mean it.”
“I do,” Carlo said simply. “Very much.”
The moment hung between them - soft, warm, unforced. Then Anna, ever the instigator of the next chapter, leaned forward slightly. “So, Carlo. When last did you speak to your mother?”
Carlo’s face lit with a flicker of emotion - something between guilt and affection. “About four days ago. Before I left Los Angeles. She… she didn’t try to stop me. I think she knew I needed to come.”
Anna gave a small smile. “I spoke to her.”
Liam sat up straighter. “Wait, what?”
“She called,” Anna continued smoothly, ignoring her son’s look of disbelief. “She said she hoped I would keep an eye on Carlo. That he’s good at putting on a brave face, but someone needs to make sure he’s actually all right.”
Carlo blinked, visibly moved. “She said that?”
“She did,” Anna said, placing her hand over his briefly. “And I intend to do exactly that.”
Liam groaned. “Great. So now we’ve got two moms checking up on us.”
“You need it,” Anna shot back with a playful glare. “I know how much you hate unpacking groceries and folding your clothes properly. I assume that hasn’t changed. And as for Carlo – I assume he has better manners than you.”
Willem let out a hearty laugh. “Well, if Anna is checking in on the two of you, Carlo, you won’t be having all that loud sex after all.”
Liam choked on his wine. Carlo’s eyes widened, and he let out an incredulous laugh. “Sir!”
“What?” Willem shrugged. “She said she’s going to keep an eye. That means you’re being watched, son.”
Liam shook his head, burying his face in his hands while Anna giggled behind hers.
The desserts arrived just in time to cut through the laughter. The mousse cake gleamed like something sinful, and the crème brûlée cracked perfectly under Willem’s spoon. Liam poured the shot of espresso over the scoop of vanilla gelato and passed it to Carlo, who took a slow sip and hummed in delight.
But as the laughter faded, Carlo’s expression shifted again. Thoughtful. Serious.
“There’s something I need to say,” he said softly, swirling the remainder of the affogato. “Something we need to talk about. All of us.”
Anna’s fork hovered in midair. Willem’s eyebrows rose slightly.
Carlo glanced at Liam, who gave a tiny, reassuring nod.
“When this goes public,” Carlo said, “and it will eventually… things are going to change. For all of us.”
Anna frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the paparazzi will come. To Jacob’s Bay. To wherever Liam is. They’ll dig through his past, his friends, his clients, his family. They’ll harass you both. There’ll be speculation, lies, exposure. You’ll be asked to speak to tabloids, or worse — be misquoted by them.”
The table went quiet.
“I know what that’s like,” Carlo said. “To live under scrutiny. I’ve spent my life managing the image of a prince. But Willem, Liam, Anna… your lives weren’t built for this. And I don’t want you to be blindsided.”
Willem’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. “Are you saying we’ll be targeted?”
“I’m saying you’ll be watched,” Carlo clarified. “Judged. And not kindly.”
Anna set down her spoon, nodding slowly. “Then we prepare.”
Liam looked at her, surprised. “You’re not upset?”
“I’m a mother,” she said. “Upset comes with the job. But that doesn’t mean I won’t stand beside you. Or you,” she added, looking at Carlo. “If this is real - and I believe it is - then we’ll face whatever comes.”
Willem nodded, more subdued now. “I can’t say I like it. But you’re family now. And we stand with family.”
Carlo reached for Liam’s hand under the table. “We’re drafting a statement. With Gustavo, my Press Secretary. It’ll be a soft launch - not a tabloid frenzy, just a carefully worded statement from the Palace. But for that to happen, we need a few more days. Maybe a week or two. Time to get the language right. To prepare properly. To make sure when we do step out, we do it with dignity.”
“Then you’ll stay quiet until then?” Willem asked.
“Yes,” Carlo said. “We’ll keep laying low. At the villa. No more beach escapades,” he added with a rueful grin.
“Good,” Willem replied. “Because the last thing I need is a drone flying over my house catching you two going at it.”
Liam groaned again. “I am begging you to stop.”
They laughed again - softer this time, but real. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and the tide crept higher, the hush of the ocean growing louder around them.
Anna reached for her glass. “Well then,” she said, lifting it slightly. “To strategy. And to standing together.”
Willem lifted his too. “To loud sex in private.”
Carlo laughed, clinking glasses with them all. “To family.”
And with that, the night began to wind down - not with fanfare, but with the steady ease of something real taking root.
They made their way back through the sand, the stars brilliant overhead. Two couples – one older and wiser, and one newer, walking the paths to their accommodation. Willem and Anna to the guesthouse they booked the night before, Liam and Carlo to the Marais house whose lights were warm in the distance, a beacon of home. Liam leaned into Carlo’s side, his hand brushing against his back.
“You did well,” he whispered.
Carlo smiled. “You make me want to.”
The wind carried the scent of salt and rosemary through the night, and the promise of breakfast at the Marais house lingered on the air — warm, homemade, and shared.
Tomorrow, there would be more to plan. But for now, there was only this.
Willem locked the door of the cozy guesthouse behind them, the distant hum of the sea just audible through the small open window. The walls were painted a soft cream, the bed neatly turned down, and a bottle of water sat waiting on the nightstand. Anna kicked off her sandals and sat on the edge of the bed with a quiet sigh.
"Well," she said, pulling the pins from her hair. "That went better than I thought it would."
Willem loosened his collar and nodded slowly. "It did. He’s not what I expected."
Anna looked up. "Carlo?"
Willem grunted. "He’s... honest. Polite. More grounded than most young royals, I’d imagine. Didn’t try to charm his way out of anything. He looked me straight in the eye. Took responsibility."
"And he seems to adore our son," Anna added.
Willem gave a small smile. "That too."
There was a comfortable pause between them as they undressed and climbed beneath the crisp linen sheets. The room smelled faintly of vanilla linen spray and sea salt. Anna turned to face him, one arm tucked beneath her head.
"I think I like him," she said softly.
"So do I," Willem admitted. "Doesn’t mean I’m not worried."
Anna sighed. "No. Of course not."
Willem stared at the ceiling, his voice lower now. "When the press gets wind of this - of who Carlo’s with, of where they are - it’s going to get ugly. And we won’t be able to protect him from it. Not really."
"He’s strong," Anna said. "Stronger than he was when he got here. He won’t break. This time he’ll know what to expect. Even if we don’t."
"I know," Willem murmured. "But I also know what it looks like when the world turns its eye on someone who never asked for it. They’ll twist it. They’ll paint Liam as the plaything of a crown prince, or worse. And what then? What happens when he’s dragged across gossip pages in countries he’s never even been to? It’ll be the same thing that broke him before."
Anna reached over, placing her hand gently on his chest. "Then we hold him up. We hold both of them up. We trust that Carlo meant it when he said he’d fight for Liam and that the Palace will back them up. And we let them have this, trusting that the Palace machine will control it this time."
Willem turned to her, his eyes soft. "You’re right. I just... I want to be ready."
"So we stay close. We stay involved. And we trust that our son knows who he is, no matter what headlines say."
Willem nodded, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her in close. The sound of the ocean drifted through the window, steady and soft.
"I like them together," he said again, quieter this time.
Anna smiled into his chest. "Me too."
They lay in silence after that, the weight of love and fear settled gently between them. Tomorrow would bring new worries, new choices. But for tonight, they let peace have them.
And outside, the stars burned bright over Jacob's Bay.
The house was still. Beyond the windows, the ocean whispered in low, steady breaths. Liam closed the front door behind them and leaned back against it, watching Carlo as he padded barefoot into the open-plan kitchen. The villa was dimly lit, filled with shadows and the lingering scent of sea salt, lemon, and wine.
Carlo turned, his shirt untucked now, sleeves still rolled, eyes soft. “They like me.”
Liam smiled. “They more than like you. You handled it all so well.”
Carlo shrugged modestly, but Liam stepped forward and caught his face in both hands. “No. Really. That speech about the consequences, about not hiding anymore - ” His voice dropped, rough with heat. “It turned me on, actually.”
Carlo’s eyebrows lifted, amused. “It did?”
“You were calm. Direct. Regal, even. I saw my parents look at you and realise you’re not just the crown prince of Bologna - I mean, you are - but you’re also the prince of my heart. You claimed me tonight, in the best possible way.”
Carlo’s breath hitched as Liam pressed their bodies together, hips brushing, hands sliding down to rest on his waist. “Funny,” Carlo murmured. “I said all that trying to be strong, but all I could think about was how good it felt when you take charge of me in bed.” Liam felt Carlo’s stiff cock straining against his own, both still confined in their pants.
Liam’s lips curved into a smile against Carlo’s jaw. “Yeah?”
Carlo nodded, voice low. “It’s not easy. Holding the crown all day, pretending I have all the answers. With you… I don’t want to perform. I get to feel. I get to let go.”
Liam kissed him then - slow, reverent, filled with all the heat and understanding those words deserved. His hands slid up Carlo’s back, under the linen, peeling the fabric away like unwrapping something sacred. “Then let me take care of you,” he whispered.
They moved through the house in silence, the air thick with tension and promise. In the guest bedroom, moonlight spilled across the bed like silk. Liam undressed Carlo with care, kissing each inch of exposed skin - the hollow of his throat, the curve of his hip, the tip of his beautiful cock already leaking, the inside of his wrist. Carlo let himself be led, bare now, surrendering to Liam’s touch.
Liam undressed slowly, his eyes never leaving Carlo’s. When he crawled over him, their bodies aligned, warm and eager. He kissed Carlo deeply, then shifted lower, lips mapping a path down his chest, stomach and hard cock.
“You’re beautiful,” Liam murmured, brushing his fingers along the soft curve of Carlo’s thigh. “And mine.”
Carlo’s breath shuddered out of him. “Yes. Yours.”
Liam slicked his fingers and prepared him with patience, drawing moans from Carlo that were low and breathy, filled with anticipation. When he finally lubed up his own cock and entered him, it was slow - so slow it made Carlo gasp. Liam paused, brushing back his curls, pressing kisses to his neck and shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” Liam said.
“I know,” Carlo whispered.
They moved together in a rhythm both instinctive and tender, each thrust deep and deliberate. Liam held Carlo close, kissing him between moans, eyes locked whenever they could bear to keep them open. Carlo gave himself completely - head thrown back, thighs trembling, hands gripping Liam’s arms like he was the only anchor left in the world.
When Liam felt him begin to tremble beneath him, he leaned down and whispered, “Cum for me, baby,” and Carlo did - body arching, a cry caught in his throat as he spilled between them.
The spasming of Carlo’s hole around Liam’s cock made him follow moments later, groaning into Carlo’s neck, their bodies locked together, slick and shaking.
Afterward, they didn’t move. Liam stayed inside him, both of them breathless and flushed, Carlo’s release smeared between them, tangled in each other and the sheets.
Carlo turned his head and kissed Liam softly. “Thank you.”
Liam smiled, brushing his thumb along Carlo’s jaw. “You don’t have to thank me for loving you.”
But Carlo only shook his head, eyes shining. “That’s exactly why I do.”
The next morning, the sun had just begun its lazy climb over Jacob's Bay when Anna and Willem made their way down the short path to their own home where Carlo and Liam were staying. The scent of fynbos hung in the salty air, and the light breeze tugged playfully at Anna’s linen dress as she carried a small bag of croissants, despite her plan to cook. Just in case the boys were still sleeping.
"You think they’re even awake yet?" Willem muttered, glancing at the quiet house.
"It’s nearly eight," Anna said, trying not to sound too smug. "Time for a decent breakfast. They need something hearty after last night’s... excitement."
Willem raised an eyebrow. "You mean after all that loud sex we heard about?"
"Willem Marais!"
But whatever teasing reply he had vanished when they stepped onto the porch and heard the faint clatter of pans and the sizzle of something cooking.
Anna gave Willem a look. "That’s not Liam."
Inside, the air was rich with the scent of garlic, olive oil, and something distinctly Italian – oregano, probably. They stepped through the open doorway and froze.
Carlo stood at the stove, barefoot, wearing the same navy slacks from the night before and Anna’s apron that read The Chef is Always Right. Nothing else. His curls were pulled into a loose bun, a glass of fresh orange juice half-drunk beside him, and a pan of tomatoes, garlic, and pancetta sizzling in front of him. On the counter, a platter of herbed frittata slices, crusty grilled bread, soft cheeses, and olives had already been laid out. There were two bottles of sparkling wine, one open, and a jug of freshly-squeezed orange juice ready for Mimosas.
"Mamma mia," Anna murmured. “Are we in Italy or our own home?”
Carlo looked up and grinned. "Buongiorno! You’re early! But welcome – excuse the mess in your kitchen though.."
Anna blinked. "You’re cooking?"
"One of my Nonna’s favourite breakfasts," Carlo said with a little shrug. "She always said you win over a family through their stomachs. Liam’s still in the shower, but I wanted you to feel at home. Please, sit. I’ve nearly finished the pomodori."
Willem looked utterly bewildered. "Is this... a royal thing?"
"Not at all," Carlo chuckled. "It’s a Nonna thing."
As they sat down at the large wooden dining table - already set with their own mismatched crockery, linen napkins, and a jar of wildflowers - Anna accepted a Mimosa from Carlo with a delighted smile.
"This is... extraordinary," she said, watching as he expertly flipped the tomatoes in the pan.
"It’s nothing," Carlo said, though he beamed a little at the praise. "Back home, our kitchens are full of noise and food and far too many people. It’s where the real politics happen. So I learned, early in life, to retreat to Nonna’s kitchen, where she taught me everything she knew about cooking."
"So what’s royal life really like, behind all those palace doors?" Anna asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
Carlo poured himself a Mimosa and sat down across from her. "Lonely, sometimes. But structured. Every hour scheduled. You learn to live for the small freedoms - late-night walks in the garden, sneaking out to visit old bookshops, breakfast with your Nonna. But.. it also has it’s perks.."
Anna smiled. "Sounds exhausting and wonderful all at once."
Willem, not one to dwell on emotions too long, leaned forward. "Do you have any decent fishing in Bologna?"
Carlo grinned. "Not sea fishing. We have no coastline. But the River Reno? Full of pike and carp. My uncle used to take me as a boy."
Willem made an approving noise. "And do you have... helicopters? Private planes? Boats?"
Carlo laughed. "There are planes and helicopters, yes. No yacht, though. That’s more my cousin’s taste. I’ve always preferred being on land. But, technically, any member of the Royal Household has access to it."
"And how many cars?" Willem pressed.
"Technically, none. They belong to the state. But I do have a soft spot for vintage Alfas."
By the time Liam joined them, towel slung around his neck and hair still damp, another pair of loose linen pants riding low on his waist, the table was roaring with laughter. He paused in the doorway, blinking.
"Did I miss a royal exposé?"
"Only the great fishing scandal of Bologna," Anna teased.
Liam grinned and took a seat beside Carlo, who brushed their knees together beneath the table. Just as Carlo was about to reach for more bread, a sharp knock rattled the front door.
Everyone looked up in curiosity – but no-one blinked an eye – in these parts of the world it was almost always a well-meaning neighbour that wanted to drop in for a good-morning cup of coffee.
Carlo, closest, rose and moved to answer it.
When he opened the door, a large man stood on the other side - broad-shouldered, sun-tanned, and wearing tasteless mirrored sunglasses despite the morning haze. His jaw was tight, his fake smile not quite reaching his eyes.
He looked Carlo up and down like one would someone you think beneath your station, then gave a short, scornful laugh.
"So this is what the supposed playboy prince who stole my boyfriend looks like?"
He raised his arm to swing a punch at Carlo – but before it could land, before Carlo could duck, Liam could move, Anna could scream or Willem could react, a member of Carlo’s security detail appeared out of nowhere and tasered the big hulk of a man to the ground. More members appeared out of nowhere, and with guns held upright, spilled into the house to secure the premises. Anna and Willem could only look on in bewilderment – while Liam shrunk back into his chair – as if he, himself, had just been punched. Willem instinctively reached for his son.
“All good to go, Your Highness, the threat was neutralised. It seems like he was a rogue element. Enjoy your breakfast”, one of them said as they retreated, satisfied that all was in order. The tasered man hanging between two of them as they carried him out.
It was everything but “good to go”, though, the mood, and the breakfast, spoiled.
Carlo turned around to see a bewildered Marais family who tried to not make eye contact with him. He stared at them with questions in his eyes – and they all looked guilty, as if they were hiding some truth from him..
