If Audrey Hepburn were the star of an m/m romance this is the kind of story it would be. Sweet, but steamy! This chapter is just an intro, but there is more slash to follow. Please comment nicely!

Chapter One: Something to Hide

My head was still throbbing from the night before. At first I thought it was just the drinks, but when I sat up on the small living room sofa I found I had a badly swollen lip and a bruise on my cheek.

"Well, it looks like you're going to live after all, doesn't it?" I couldn't dig up anything about her, not even her name, but the old lady who'd found me last night was standing right there by the sofa. I hadn't seen or heard her come in because I was still feeling my face with my fingertips, trying not to make the throbbing pain any worse. It was only when she put her hand on my shoulder that I realized she'd been there all along.

"I think I can get back to campus okay. Do you have my wallet?" When I opened my eyes my headache kicked up a notch, but at the same time I took a good look around. The night before I hadn't realized how small and cluttered the place really was.

"I checked in the bushes, and by the side of the road, but I couldn't find a man's wallet anywhere." Whoever she was, the old lady felt like someone I could trust. The look on her wrinkled face was so worried you'd think the lost wallet was hers. But it wasn't. She looked like the capable type anyway. In her hands she had a bowl, a damp washcloth, and some stuff in a bottle. "Put your head back, sweetie, and let me clean up some of those nasty cuts and bruises on your face. Just lean back against the cushions and relax. That's it, just close your eyes. As soon as you're feeling a little bit better, we'll call the sheriff and you can file a full report."

"I don't want the police . . . ow! I don't want the police involved." She was cleaning a scrape and it hurt. My eyes flew open and I remembered that we were way out in the country. "I don't want the sheriff to know," I said, in a softer voice, trying to look right into her eyes and not seem like a boy who had something to hide.

"But the sheriff does know!" Her light gray eyes looked right into my dark brown ones, and I felt so guilty I had to look out the window. Just then a big tan pickup truck with a gold badge painted on the side was pulling into the tiny gravel driveway. The old lady's whole face lit up. "Oh, there's Jim now! He stopped by like always this morning for coffee, and I told him everything I knew. He wanted to get your statement too, but I just wouldn't hear of waking you. Now that you're feeling better it'll all work out. Jim will get to the bottom of this in no time!"

By this time the sheriff was knocking on the door, and I was standing up and looking around for my clothes. But they were not there because the old woman had thrown them into the wash. All I had on were my briefs and a thin white armless t-shirt. My heart was pounding and I was terribly afraid of revealing the truth.

You see, my name is Anton Maximilian DeCarlo. I am not really a typical party-loving college student. In reality I am the prince of a small Mediterranean nation called Scalimorno. Of course, no-one in America knows that I am a prince.

And my royal parents have still not accepted the fact that I am gay.