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 run 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.
