I HATE VALENTINE'S DAY

Chapter One

Wedneday, January 30th

"Maine? He's sending me to Maine?" Incredulity hung in the air as the words escaped my lips, punctuating the end of a perfectly ordinary Tuesday. I blinked at Mr. Reynolds, my supervisor, hoping that perhaps I had misheard.

He didn't flinch, his gaze steady and unyielding. The city outside, adorned in the hues of an approaching sunset. I leaned back in my chair, the sleek skyline of Baltimore visible through the windows, suddenly feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the winter weather outside.

Mr. Reynolds, a man with a perpetual stern expression, merely nodded. His gray hair and perfectly pressed suit gave him an air of authority that was difficult to challenge.

"Yes, Sierra. Maine," he replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "He's acquired a factory there, and he needs you to oversee operations for the Valentine's season."

I could feel my frown deepening with each word that Mr. Reynolds uttered. My fingers tightened around the arms of my chair, a futile attempt to ground myself in the familiar plush leather. Not only is he sending me there. He's sending me, during the Valentine's season—a time of heart-shaped everything, saccharine gestures, and a pervasive sense of romance that I had long learned to avoid.

I sighed, my fingers drumming nervously on the mahogany desk. "Valentine's season? You know how I feel about Valentine's Day, right?" He knows how I feel about Valentine's Day.

Mr. Reynolds looked at me with a measured expression. "Sierra, this is a crucial assignment. The company has downsized since the acquisition, and we need someone of your caliber to ensure a successful Valentine's season for the factory. Plus he requested we send you."

I rolled my eyes. I loved working for ACE but I hated that he thinks that he can randomly give me assignments whenever he wants.

He's your boss, of course he can.

I rolled my eyes.

I couldn't argue with his assessment of my skills, but the mention of Valentine's Day made my stomach churn. The holiday had never been my cup of tea.

"Plus, if you go, it puts you on the top of the list to be promoted to Director of Communications and Strategic Marketing. I know how much you want the job." Mr. Reynolds was right. Being promoted to Director of CSM would give me the career push I needed. It also promised a much-needed increase in salary.

"When do I leave?"I found myself asking, a mix of ambition and urgency in my voice.

"Tomorrow morning. Your flight's scheduled for 6 AM. I've already taken care of your accommodations over there," he informed me, his demeanor reflecting the efficiency and decisiveness for which he was known.

"Tomorrow?" I echoed, unable to hide my disbelief. "You're not giving me much time to prepare."

Mr. Reynolds leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "Sierra, this is a time-sensitive matter. The factory needs your skills, and Valentine's Day waits for no one."

The thought of being the harbinger of Valentine's cheer in a factory that had likely seen better days sent a shiver down my spine. Maine in the middle of winter—braving both the frigid temperatures and the romantic onslaught. The prospect was daunting, to say the least.

"This assignment is an opportunity for you to showcase your leadership," Mr. Reynolds continued. "Embrace it, Sierra. It will open doors for you within the company."

Nodding, I rose from my chair, the weight of the impending journey settling upon my shoulders. As I gathered my things, Mr. Reynolds added, "Your itinerary and everything you need to know are on your desk. Make sure you're well-prepared. The factory awaits."