Acting The Part

By Eva Cassel

From first time she met Mikhail Sommerville, actress Lydia Castle could feel the explosive chemistry with her new co–star. Cast as lovers in a steamy historical film, Lydia and Mikhail don't need to pretend to be in lust with one another...both on and off the set.

But with the paparazzi and tabloids watching, there is only one way for Lydia and Mikhail to release their sexual tension and keep their privacy: by acting out their passion in the most intense sex scene of their lives...

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460820612

Eva Cassel

Eva Cassel discovered romance novels on her thirteenth birthday, when a friend cluelessly grabbed and gifted a particularly torrid example off her mother's bookshelf. When she encountered the first love scene Eva's eyes bugged out and an addiction was born. Her favourites were always the novels thick with psychological tension, smouldering eye contact and page-turning power dynamics. Hundreds of pirates (and years of therapy) later, she just couldn't contain herself any longer and began feverishly writing her own. Otherwise, she's a graduate student in English, living on the lush west coast of Canada, designing clothing for fun, and trying to get Zen any way she can.

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Acting the Part

Eva Cassel

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We’d been filming in the south of France for only two weeks when rumors of a real-life romance between Mikhail and I spread through the British tabloids like mold on warm mayonnaise. All completely—semi—false, of course. But try arguing that when there are pictures of Britain’s most eligible bachelor spreading sunscreen all over your American ass. Friends can spread sunscreen on each other on their day off at the beach, I told my publicist.

She laughed. Is that your official statement?

I’d been warned about working with both Mikhail Sommerville and Derek Jackson, the director. The unlikely progeny of a beautiful, dark-haired Russian actress and a British physicist, Mikhail had an international reputation as a heartbreaker. He had a literature degree from Oxford and would occasionally moonlight as a playwright for the Royal Theatre in London. I’d never worked with anyone like him before—actors generally being rather blank in all the ways that matter. My agent told me he had ridiculously high standards and a knack for making actresses cry.

The first time we actually met was in a tiny Parisian café near the Musée D’Orsay. Derek led me over to Mikhail—sipping a noisette and reading a French newspaper, dressed all in black, dark brown hair raked back and off his face—and made the introductions.

Lydia Castle, I’d like you to meet the infamous Mikhail Sommerville, your co-star.

Infamous, eh? Mikhail stood up, looking a little embarrassed, and held out his hand. At least six-foot-two, he towered me.

His cheeks dimpled slightly as he smiled. I squeezed his hand. He held onto it a second longer than necessary, lowering his chin and staring into my eyes—as though we were in on the same joke. I have to admit, I swooned a little.

I’d seen enough pictures of him to know that he was gorgeous, but I hadn’t expected the effect he would have on me. Unlike most of the pretty Hollywood boys, Mikhail was reported to have something rarer than good looks—character. He actually looked like he was thinking, lots, about everything. I could see that he was sizing me up.

Perhaps it was just my insecurities, but I thought he looked unconvinced that I was the right woman to play a moody, passionate, medieval writer named Sandrine Farot—feisty enough to dare to write when few women could read, with a sexual appetite to match the perverted king’s. I’d been dying for a role like this ever since I knew I wanted to act.

The three of us sat down. The mid-morning sun streaked through the floor-to-ceiling café windows. Derek slapped Mikhail on the shoulder. I’m glad you didn’t greet Lydia the way you did Juliette Binoche.

Mikhail burst out laughing. His broad, easy smile was mesmerizing. I looked from one to the other for an explanation. Mikhail sighed, still looking rather pleased with himself.

"When we were filming Sun Into Midnight, and I met Juliette for the first time, rather than shaking her hand, like I just did yours, I laid a wet one on her."

"What?" I exclaimed, looking at Derek for confirmation; he nodded and shook his head in amusement and exasperation. Why would you do that?

Mikhail shrugged nonchalantly. "It was an intense film. I needed to make sure we had the right