Sinners by Jackie Collins Read Free Book Online

bulging, just about to stick a syringe in a waiting vein.
    She cried out in horror. His eyes bulged even further, distorting his arrogant Roman features, then the needle was safely in, and he sucked in his breath quickly and turned his back to her.
    She rushed from the room.
    When he emerged his face was perfectly composed.
    ‘Don’t be frightened, my little one,’ he said. ‘It is correct for me to inject myself daily under my doctor’s orders. I did not wish to tell you before, however now . . .’ He shrugged, perfectly at ease.
    ‘But why?’ Sunday asked, still horrified by the sight she had seen.
    ‘Oh, depression you know, nothing very serious.’
    ‘I’ve never seen you depressed.’
    ‘That is because of my good doctor. You see? There is nothing to worry about.’
    ‘Yes,’ she said uneasily, ‘but why do you have to inject yourself ? It’s horrible.’
    ‘I could not bother the doctor every day, could I now? So he showed me what to do, and I just do it. See, it is simple. Come, let me take you to the beach for lunch. Make yourself even more bellisimo .’
    Later they left their apartment and drove in Paulo’s Lamborghini to the beach, where they lunched with friends, and then played miniature golf and lay on the sand at Freggenni. Paulo had put her mind at rest. After all, if his doctor had told him to do it, then it must be all right.
    She enjoyed the afternoon. She was due to begin work on a film the next day, and it was good to relax.
    The new movie started, and this time her voice was not dubbed. She spoke her part in Italian, which took up all her time and attention. Paulo fetched her in the evenings, and they dined with friends. Once home she would collapse into bed, exhausted. It only occurred to her after the film was finished that Paulo no longer made love to her. She also noticed that at night, when he thought she was asleep, he would creep from their bed and prowl around the apartment.
    The first night she realized this she fell asleep soon after. But the next night she forced herself to stay awake, and an hour later crept out of bed to look for him.
    The apartment door was wide open, and Paulo was nowhere to be seen. She knew he couldn’t have dressed without her seeing him, and he couldn’t have gone very far with just his pyjamas on, so she waited by the door and surprised him when he came back. He was carrying a package, which he dropped when he saw her, spilling the contents – box after box of glass ampoules, three syringes and two bottles of large green pills.
    They stared at each other. ‘Why are you up? Why are you spying on me?’ he asked coldly, as he bent to pick up the things.
    ‘The door was open,’ she stammered. ‘Where have you been? What do you need all that for?’
    He slammed the door in a fury. Then, eyes narrow and mean, he hit her across the face and screamed, ‘Spying bitch!’ With that he marched off to the bathroom, locking the door.
    She was stunned. Her face blazed red where he had hit her. She bent to the bathroom keyhole and peered in. He was giving himself an injection. Frightened, she ran to bed.
    The next morning he appeared charming and gay as if nothing had happened.
    Sunday found out who his doctor was and went to see him. The doctor was as shocked as she was. Paulo had never been under orders to administer drugs to himself.
    Together they planned to catch him. The next afternoon Sunday went out, only to return immediately with the doctor, who had been waiting downstairs by arrangement. They caught Paulo in the bathroom, the door open, injecting himself in the leg.
    In a way he seemed relieved to have been caught. He was giving himself up to five intravenous injections a day, plus massive doses of sleeping pills to calm himself down.
    The drug he was taking was methadrine, which after a time could become as addictive as heroin.
    The doctor ordered him straight into a private nursing home, and there for the first time Sunday met the man she had