For the next few weeks, they were inseparable. Training sessions bled into late-night conversations. Dinners became overnights. Liam found himself waking up with Carlo’s long limbs tangled in his, dark hair against his shoulder. It felt unreal - like a dream he wasn’t supposed to be dreaming.
They kept it quiet. Liam told no one. Carlo’s team knew, but said nothing.
“This can’t go public,” Carlo warned one night, lying beside him, naked in Liam’s small studio apartment.
“I get it,” Liam replied. “You’ve got a kingdom to deal with.”
Carlo turned to him, serious. “It’s not just the title. My family doesn’t know. About me. About us.”
Liam blinked. “You still haven’t told them?”
Carlo shook his head. “I tried once. Many years ago. Before I met you. My father said, ‘Some secrets are better buried.’ And I buried it. But I don’t want to anymore.”
Liam’s chest tightened. “So tell them now.”
Carlo met his eyes. “Would you be ready? For that kind of spotlight?”
Liam didn’t answer. The truth was, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t used to dating in secret. Or dating a royal – hell, he didn’t even know royal protocol!
He’d had boyfriends before - brief, open, ordinary. But this? This was a world of side doors, tinted windows and hushed goodbyes. It was intoxicating in its secrecy and exhausting in equal measure. He craved more than moments. He wanted sunlight.
Carlo, on the other hand, was a master of secrecy. He knew how to vanish in a crowd, how to lower his voice at the right time, how to laugh just loudly enough to pass for casual. But lately, even he seemed to be reaching his limit.
“I hate this,” he admitted one night, seated at Liam’s kitchen table, barefoot and tired, stirring a cup of chamomile tea he wasn’t drinking. “I hate pretending you don’t exist in my real life.”
“I exist,” Liam said softly, “just behind the curtain.”
“I want to tear the curtain down.”
Liam arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying you want to go public? Like... out out?”
Carlo looked up, something defiant in his expression. “Why not? I haven’t gone on a weekend trip to wind down in a long time. Not a real one anyway. I want that with you.”
Liam’s first instinct was to say no. The idea was risky - reckless, even. The wrong photo, the wrong person watching, and Carlo’s carefully protected world could shatter.
But Liam looked at him, saw the hope in his eyes - and the courage. And suddenly, Liam felt bold too. “Then let’s do it,” he said. “Somewhere quiet. But real.”
They picked a small coastal town two hours north of L.A., one of those blink-and-you-miss-it beachside escapes, full of quaint bistros and sleepy boardwalks. Carlo booked the trip under an alias. They drove there in Liam’s battered old Jeep, windows down, music blasting. For the first time in weeks, it felt like freedom.
They spent the afternoon walking barefoot on the beach, laughing, stealing kisses behind sand dunes. Carlo insisted on building a lopsided sandcastle. Liam teased him mercilessly, even as he helped. No one seemed to recognize them. For the first time, Liam saw what Carlo might be like without the weight of his birthright - joyful, a little mischievous, utterly radiant.
Dinner was at a tiny seafood place with an outdoor patio overlooking the ocean. The waitress didn’t blink twice. She just brought them wine and smiled when Liam reached for his hand across the table.
“This is what it could be like,” Carlo said, his fingers threading through Liam’s. “Us. Normal.”
“You’re a crown prince,” Liam reminded him with a crooked grin. “There’s no version of you that’s normal.”
Carlo rolled his eyes. “Let me pretend.”
Liam leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Fine. But just for tonight.”
They lingered over dessert, unwilling to let the evening end. The air was warm, and the ocean was dark and endless beyond the patio rail. Carlo kept brushing Liam’s ankle under the table. Liam didn’t pull away.
“You know,” Carlo said, “in some universe, this is the moment where I’d ask if you wanted to run away with me. And we’d just be us. Normal.”
“And in this universe?”
Carlo’s gaze was wistful. “We pretend we don’t want to.”
Liam exhaled. “What if we stopped pretending?”
Carlo looked up. “Are you saying—?”
“I’m saying maybe it’s time we stop hiding.”
Carlo didn’t answer at first. Then, slowly, he said, “We’ll have to orchestrate it carefully .”
Just one sentence. But it was enough.
Later, they were back at the rental, sat on a wide couch, wrapped in soft blankets, watching the fireplace flickering low.
It felt easy. Too easy, almost.
Liam stole a glance at Carlo, who had been unusually quiet since dinner. His dark eyes were focused on the fire, his fingers wrapped around the stem of his wineglass.
“You’re thinking a lot,” Liam said softly.
Carlo turned, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I am. Sorry. I just... I’ve never done this before.”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “Gone on a weekend trip? With a guy?”
“With someone I really like,” Carlo clarified. “With someone who sees all of me. Not just the polished parts.”
Liam’s smile faltered just slightly. “Is that what you think I see? The polished version?”
“No,” Carlo said quickly, setting his glass down. “That’s the thing. You see everything. You see me when I’m unsure, when I don’t have the answers. You even saw me cry that day I dropped the weights on my foot.”
Liam laughed at the memory. “I did. And I didn’t judge you.”
“I know,” Carlo said. He leaned forward slightly. “And I’ve been thinking about... what it would mean for us to take the next step. Physically.”
Liam’s breath caught in his throat - not from surprise, but from the tenderness in Carlo’s voice.
“I’ve never been with a man,” Carlo continued. “Not even close. I didn’t let myself go there. But with you, it’s different. I want it to be more. Not just kissing and being blown. Even if it is amazing beyond words. I want it to be more than just longing and nights spent wondering.”
Liam placed his wineglass down, heart racing. “We don’t have to rush anything.”
“I don’t want to rush,” Carlo agreed. “I want it to be... ours. Not a reaction to pressure or curiosity. But because we care. Because I care.”
Liam reached over and took his hand, warm and steady. “Then let’s let it be that. Whenever we’re both ready. Not just physically, but emotionally. I want this to mean something for you. For us.”
Carlo looked down at their hands, then back up. “I already know it does.”
The moment settled between them like snowfall - quiet, significant, and pure.
They didn’t rush toward the bedroom. Instead, they curled into each other on the couch, the fire slowly dying down, the wine long forgotten. It wasn’t about what they would do - it was about the permission they’d just given each other to grow, slowly and together.
They had time. And they had each other.
Two days after their return to Los Angeles, the inevitable happened. They were caught.
Not by paparazzi. Not by a royal aide. By someone far more dangerous: the internet.
A fan of the gym - a social media influencer - spotted them at a juice bar, laughing, too close, too familiar. The blurry photo went viral in minutes.
“Is this the Crown Prince of Bologna and his rumoured L.A. lover?” the caption read.
The weekend had been everything. Quiet mornings, shared laughter, late-night whispers under soft blankets. It had felt like the start of something real. Something sacred.
Then came the photo.
Liam wasn’t even aware it had been taken until he woke to a barrage of messages. His phone buzzed incessantly on his nightstand, screen flashing with texts from clients, friends, and a few numbers he didn’t recognize.
He sat up, groggy, and opened his Instagram.
And there it was.
A grainy photo, clearly taken with a zoom lens. He and Carlo, standing outside a juice bar on Melrose, heads tilted close. Carlo’s hand lightly on Liam’s back, their smiles soft, intimate. Too intimate.
The caption read:
“EXCLUSIVE: Is this the Crown Prince of Bologna and his rumoured L.A. lover?”
The watermark screamed Daily Scoop. Within minutes, it had made its way to TMZ, then to international outlets.
By noon, #PrinceCarlo was trending in four countries. Liam’s own name had begun circulating, too - "mystery man," "personal trainer boyfriend," "LA lover." Paparazzi had found the gym. News vans were parked outside by early afternoon.
Carlo had called him just once.
“I’m dealing with it,” he said quickly, voice taut. “Don’t go outside. I’ll talk to you later.”
And then he hung up.
Liam sat alone in his apartment, blinds drawn, phone still buzzing, heart sinking deeper with each passing hour. It wasn’t the media attention that hurt - not really. It was the silence.
In Bologna, the palace went into lockdown.
Carlo had known the moment he saw the notification from his mother. It wasn’t even a message - just a screenshot of the article, no comment attached. The official call from the palace press secretary came thirty minutes later.
“You need to make a statement,” they said. “The King is demanding clarity. This is not acceptable.”
He was ushered into a secured video conference with his father, the King; his mother, Queen Elena; the head of palace communications; and a grim-faced representative from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
“This story has reached every corner of Europe,” said the minister. “We’re fielding questions from allied monarchies, trade partners, the press—”
“I know,” Carlo interrupted.
“Then why is there no official response?”
Queen Elena spoke gently. “Carlo, sweetheart. We need to hear from you. What is your relationship with this young man?”
Carlo’s mouth opened, then shut again.
He could still feel the warmth of Liam’s hand in his. The way he’d kissed him in the firelight. The way Liam had made space for him to be unsure - without pressure, without judgment. He remembered Liam’s laughter, his steadiness, the way he’d said we don’t have to rush anything.
But now everything was rushing.
“I hired him as my personal trainer,” Carlo said, his voice even. “We became friends.”
A heavy silence followed.
The King leaned forward. “So you deny a romantic relationship?”
Carlo hesitated. “There is nothing to announce. We’re friends. He’s helped me feel at home in Los Angeles.”
“That will be our statement,” the communications director said quickly. “Short. Controlled. Personal trainer and friend.”
“Make sure the palace account shares it before the tabloids run their own angle,” added the minister.
Carlo nodded, slowly, the taste of those words bitter in his mouth.
Liam read the statement that night.
It had been posted on the official palace social media account. Simple black text on a white background:
“His Royal Highness, Prince Carlo confirms that recent photos depict him with his personal trainer, Mr. Liam Hart. The two have developed a friendship during His Royal Highness’s time in Los Angeles. No further comment will be made.”
That was it.
No mention of the weekend. Of the couch and the fire and the almost-love in Carlo’s voice. The stolen kisses, the overnights at their apartments..
Liam knew it was strategic.
He knew it was necessary.
But it still broke something inside him.
He turned his phone off, lay back, and stared at the ceiling. The silence felt heavier now. Like a curtain had been pulled down around him. Like he’d stepped out of something bright and honest into a world where truth had no place.
Carlo paced his apartment, restless and angry with himself.
He hadn’t meant to deny Liam. Not really. But the moment he heard his father’s voice - stern, loaded with royal weight - he had panicked.
They would have destroyed Liam. Turned him into a tabloid punching bag. Dug into his past. His clients, his parents, his social life. They would’ve twisted everything good about him and used it against him.
Carlo had thought that by denying the story, he was protecting Liam.
But now, sitting alone in the echo of that cold palace-issued statement, he wasn’t so sure.
Because the truth was, Liam wasn’t a fling. He wasn’t a scandal to be survived.
He was… the person who made everything feel real again.
And Carlo had just pretended he wasn’t.
He picked up his phone.
No new messages.
He typed one out, then deleted it.
Instead, he whispered into the empty room: “I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t enough.
Not yet.
But it was the beginning of the apology he knew he would have to make - properly, publicly, and with every bit of his heart.
Because love like this - unexpected and hard-won - was worth fighting for.
Even if it meant turning away from a crown to hold on to something honest.
