Some stories have villains. Some stories have heroes. But in this love story—the one I lived—Gucci is both. Expensive car. Designer shoes. Neck decorated with heavy gold chains. And rocking Gucci from head-to-toe. He came into my life like the storm I'd never expected, forcing his way into my life with all the cocky arrogance that a man who built his way up from the bottom could possibly have. Like a god in human form, he seduced me with ease, and though I tried to play hard to get, he knew from the beginning that he would be getting me. There are a million and one reasons why I shouldn't love him. A million and one reasons why I shouldn't want him. And tons more for why I should've ran in the other direction the instance I saw him walking my way. Gucci is intoxicatingly toxic, a devil in designer shoes. He's the last man on Earth that I should ever want. But I want him anyways.