What Is The Meaning Behind Maroon 5'S Payphone?

Sometimes love demands a second chance, but it will never be bought, no matter the amount. Michael Carrington promised himself after losing his wife that he was done with love. No more investing in anything he wasn’t capable of walking away. Sex and high-dollar business deals would become the center of his world. Throw in a touch of danger, and he has all he needs outside of a new assistant. Rainey Foster has finally graduated college, and as a struggling single mom, she just needs someone to give her a chance. She’s willing to go all in with the right employer, as long as the buck stops there. He can have her time, her commitment and her attention, but no one will ever have her heart again. She thinks she has things figured out until she comes face to face with the illustrious Michael Carrington. Powerful. Confident. Sexy as all get out. Lust might ignite the flame between them, but love will have its way.

“You can call me when you’re lonely. I’ll be your temporary fix.” Those were the words that he said to me and it was plain simple, he wanted nothing but sex and I wanted nothing more than too. I was the kind of girl who was too scared of falling in love again because I feel like there is something more in life than being mournful over a guy who never actually gave a hell. I deserve something more than pain and misery over a stupid heartbreak. Since then, I got too scared of commitment that I no longer wanted to be in one. I wanted fun and I wanted to feel like I am alive again. He was the kind of guy who was too busy for permanent relationships. The superstar that all women wanted to bang with. The kind of guy who would have any girls kneel down in front of him because well, he is that kind of guy. He was a guy with a hectic schedule, sold out world tours, drinking champagne in private jets, holding a mic in one hand and conquering all over the world on the other. Maybe I needed someone to show me how to live again and he needed someone to show him how to love.

My fiancee, Bianca Milas, had a peculiar quirk. She never answered my phone calls after 9 p.m.. Even during our honeymoon phase, she would hang up on me without hesitation as soon as it was 9 p.m.. Once, I came home late and realized that one of my enemies had sent killers after me. In a panic, I had called her. When she finally answered, she simply said impatiently, “Grow up. Ever heard of respecting someone’s routine?” That night, I was slashed three times and nearly lost my life. One day, while using her computer, I accidentally saw a call log synced to her phone showing a call from 9 p.m. to 9 a.m.. Every single night, for five years, she had been engaged in twelve-hour calls. I recognized the number. It belonged to her mother’s student, Derek Steadman. Derek worked as her teaching assistant. My whole body sagged, and fatigue washed over me. I sat there motionless for a long while, then called off our marriage license appointment. She never answered my calls, so I did not see the point in answering hers any longer.

“You paid me to fuck you raw, Lilah. Now you’re carrying my baby… and I’m nowhere near done with you.” Lilah Moreau wanted revenge. After catching her politician fiancé balls-deep in another woman on the night of their engagement party, she did the one thing guaranteed to destroy her “perfect fiancée” image. She hired the most expensive, most sinful callboy in the city. No names. No strings. Just one night of filthy, no-limits sex. The man who showed up was pure sin — tall, tattooed, brutally dominant, and dangerously skilled. He fucked her like he owned her. He made her scream, beg, and come harder than she ever had in her life. By morning, she left ten thousand dollars on the nightstand and disappeared without a trace. Four months later… she’s pregnant. And the callboy is back. Except he isn’t a callboy at all. He’s Damien Vale — ruthless billionaire, CEO of Vale Capital, and a man who never forgets what belongs to him. Now he’s standing in her living room, eyes dark with raw possession, one large hand possessively rubbing over her slightly swollen belly. “You ran from me once, little wife,” he murmurs, voice low and filthy. “Paid me like a whore and thought you could hide my child from me. Cute.” He leans in, lips brushing her ear: “Time to pay up properly… with this sweet pregnant pussy, every single night.

His songs were better when he had a broken heart. That sentence would change my life after my dream job was dished to me on a shiny, silver platter. All I had to do? Hurt Nash Pierce enough to get him writing good music again. The pop icon’s songs were no longer the phenomena they used to be. His team needed another breakthrough album—like the first he’d penned, using his heartbreak as fuel. The plan was simple: I’d go on tour with him as a backup dancer…and make him fall in love with me. I was hired to inspire—to become embedded into every lyric he wrote. Then, I was to set fire to it all—to destroy every feeling we hoped he’d develop for me. It seemed simple enough. Easy, even. I didn’t expect to be consumed myself—to see so much in the man displayed in the tabloids. I didn’t foresee falling for him. It didn’t occur to me that, while attempting to break his heart, I might just shatter my own. Most of all, I never thought I’d fight so hard to hold on to a relationship that had always been founded on goodbye.

In the seventh year of singing on the streets for a living, I finally save enough money for my boyfriend, Charlie Bond, to pay for our wedding and marry me. Late at night, a young woman suddenly walks up to me and requests a song just as I'm about to pack up. She says, "I'm in a bad mood. Just sing a couple of songs for me." When she notices my disabled leg, she transfers 5,000 dollars to me right away. She adds, "I'm sorry for bothering you when it's already so late. I'm just really upset. Please take pity on me and keep me company for a while." Looking at the payment notification, I nod. With this money, Charlie won't have to struggle so much when it comes to paying rent. He won't need to deliver food in the middle of rainstorms just to make ends meet. The young woman begins pouring her heart out to me. "My husband and I have been married for five years. Today, I found out that I'm pregnant. I wanted to share the good news with him, but then I found a diamond ring in his pocket! "No matter how much I question him, he refuses to say anything. I got so angry at him that I ran out of my home. Do you think he's cheating on me?" I hesitate and am just about to comfort her when her phone suddenly rings. A man's voice comes through the speaker. It sounds helpless yet affectionate. He says, "You're so silly. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. The ring is a custom-made gift for you. I wanted it to be a surprise, but you found it before I could give it to you. Where are you? I'll come pick you up." The moment I hear that familiar voice, a chill runs down my spine. The name displayed on her phone is the exact same name as my boyfriend's—Charlie Bond.