Felix's return from Chicago injected a shot of adrenaline into Argyle & Co. Foods, also allowing Catherine a few precious days to rest and gather herself.
The intimacy of that night, the weight of his coat around her shoulders, the nearness of him in the carriage, seemed to have been deliberately forgotten by both of them, tucked away like a letter one isn't quite ready to open.
The factory rapidly absorbed all the benefits brought by the great victory in Chicago, its machinery humming with renewed purpose.
The continuous supply of cheap beef from the west further reduced the factory's production costs, each rail car that arrived a small triumph in itself.
And the railway, now controlled by Felix through careful maneuvering and calculated risks, occasionally began to transport the company's products beyond New York's bustling ports, carrying their goods to Philadelphia, Boston, and even the growing cities of the western territories, to a broader market that seemed to expand with each passing week.
The company's profits also began to grow rapidly as raw material supplies were met, the ledgers Catherine maintained showing figures that would have seemed impossible just months ago.
This evening, as Catherine finished the last document, her careful script noting the day's shipments and receipts, and was preparing to return to her small apartment as usual, Felix called out to her from his office doorway.
"Catherine, wait a moment."
She looked up, pushing a strand of hair back into place. "Sir?"
"I've reserved a private room at Delmonico's Restaurant to celebrate our victory in Chicago." He leaned against the doorframe, watching her reaction with those keen eyes that missed nothing.
Catherine was stunned, her pen nearly slipping from her fingers.
Delmonico's was the most luxurious and expensive restaurant in all of New York, perhaps in all of America. Its chandeliers were imported from France, its wines from the finest vineyards of Europe.
It was a place only bankers and railway magnates could frequent, where a single meal cost more than many families earned in a month.
"Sir, this… this is too extravagant."
"And I…"
Catherine subconsciously wanted to refuse, her practical nature warring with something else, a fluttering hope she didn't dare name.
She looked down at her simple but clean clerk's suit dress, serviceable gray wool that had seen her through countless days at her desk. It was respectable, even handsome in its way, but it was not Delmonico's.
Felix's lips curved into a smile, interrupting her refusal, and he said with self-deprecating humor that softened the edges of his usual businesslike demeanor.
"No 'and'."
"You know, I'm a rich scoundrel now, and occasionally I need to learn how those people spend their money. Consider it a business expense, I'm studying the habits of the wealthy." His tone was light, but his eyes were serious.
He crossed to her desk and placed a beautifully wrapped box upon it, the paper a delicate cream tied with silk ribbon the color of midnight.
"This was bought at a shop recommended by Mrs. Tilford. I think what's inside should suit you better than last time." There was a gentleness in his voice, almost uncertain, as if he feared he'd overstepped.
Catherine's hands trembled as she opened the box, her fingers fumbling slightly with the ribbon.
Inside, nestled in tissue paper that whispered as she moved it aside, was a soft, royal blue silk dress. The fabric caught the lamplight and seemed to hold it, luminous and deep.
The color was exactly like her eyes, a detail she couldn't believe was accidental.
---
That night, in Delmonico's private room, which overlooked Madison Square with its elegant trees and the distant glow of the city spreading out like fallen stars, Catherine felt transported to another world.
Catherine, wearing the dress that seemed tailor-made for her, and perhaps was, she realized, noting how perfectly it followed her figure, felt a little constrained at first, conscious of the weight of the silk, the whisper of it against her skin.
She had experienced such occasions in Washington, in her previous life when her family still had pretensions to society. But being alone with Felix felt different. Intimate. Dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with propriety and everything to do with the way her heart raced when his eyes found hers across the candlelit table.
"Relax, Catherine."
Felix poured her a glass of champagne, the bubbles rising like tiny captured stars in the crystal.
"Tonight, there's no boss and no assistant. No ledgers or contracts or strategies." He raised his own glass. "Only two people who climbed out of the slums and lived to tell the tale."
These words gradually calmed Catherine's heart, reminding her of their shared history, their parallel struggles.
"Then, Felix."
She boldly called him by his first name again, savoring the shape of it on her tongue.
"To our escape from the slums, cheers."
"Cheers."
The two gently clinked their glasses, and the clear ring of crystal seemed to seal something between them.
During this dinner, which consisted of oysters that tasted of the sea, tender duck in a sauce that seemed to contain all the richness of France, vegetables prepared with a delicacy that made them almost unrecognizable, they didn't discuss anything about the company.
Instead, they talked about their more detailed pasts again, peeling back layers they'd kept hidden even from themselves.
Catherine spoke of her childhood in Ireland, of her family, how they struggled to survive the famine that had turned the land itself against them, the hollow-eyed neighbors who had simply disappeared one morning, and how they eventually came to this new continent on a ship that had seemed more coffin than vessel.
Felix, on the other hand, wove a half-true, half-false story about his "past" for her, blending memories from his actual life with carefully constructed fictions.
His story was full of metaphors and a deep melancholy that Catherine couldn't fully comprehend, references to things lost that couldn't be named, to a life that felt like someone else's dream.
But she could feel that beneath the seemingly unbreakable exterior of the man before her, beneath the shrewd businessman and the calculating strategist, there was a soul as lonely as her own. A soul that had learned, as she had, to armor itself against a world that gave nothing freely.
"Felix."
Catherine looked at him across the guttering candles, their meal finished, and suddenly asked a question that had been building in her all evening.
"Have you… ever thought about starting a family?"
Felix fell silent, his champagne glass suspended halfway to his lips.
"A successful man always needs a respectable wife behind him."
Catherine's tone, as if talking to herself, was like stating a fact she'd read in a book about people who weren't them.
"For example, Senator Clark of Washington, his daughter named Anna. I've met her at a reception. She's beautiful and intelligent, accomplished in French and the pianoforte. She's the kind of woman who could be worthy of you." Each word felt like swallowing glass, but she continued, her voice steady. "The kind of woman who knows which fork to use, who can host dinner parties for twenty without breaking a sweat."
Felix looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the hint of bitterness hidden deep within her feigned calm, blue eyes, a bitterness she herself hadn't even noticed, like a bruise under the skin.
He didn't answer her question, but instead asked back, leaning forward slightly.
"What about you, Catherine, have you thought about yourself? There are many excellent young men in New York, clerks and junior partners, men who would give you comfort and security. I think they would cherish you like a princess, put you in a nice house and give you an easy life."
"I don't need anyone to treat me like a princess."
Catherine shook her head, a proud smile appearing on her face, fierce and beautiful.
"Because I have already found a career more interesting than being a princess. I've found something that's mine, built by my own hands and my own mind." She met his eyes directly. "I'd rather be a queen in my own right than a princess in someone else's castle."
The words hung between them, heavy with meaning.
---
After dinner, Felix insisted on personally escorting Catherine home, dismissing the carriage and choosing instead to walk through the city streets.
The two walked side by side down the gaslit streets of New York late at night, their footsteps echoing on the cobblestones, neither of them speaking.
The silence between them was comfortable now, filled with the sounds of the city settling into sleep, a distant dog barking, the clop of a late hansom cab, the whisper of wind through the trees.
Behind them, several guards followed in the shadows, not too far, not too close, their presence a reminder of Felix's growing prominence and the dangers that came with it.
They arrived at Catherine's small apartment building, a modest brownstone that had seen better days.
"Alright, I'm here."
Catherine stopped at the base of the stairs and looked at Felix, suddenly reluctant for the evening to end.
"Thank you, Felix. I had a very happy evening." The words seemed inadequate for what she felt.
"Me too."
The evening breeze stirred a few strands of hair on her forehead, pulling them loose from the careful arrangement she'd managed.
The dim yellow light of the gas lamp shone on her beautiful, slightly flushed face, turning her skin to porcelain and her eyes to sapphires.
Catalyzed by alcohol and an emotion called ambiguity, or perhaps something far more certain than that, Felix reached out and gently tucked the wind-blown strand of her hair behind her ear.
His fingertips accidentally brushed her warm, soft earlobe, and he felt her pulse there, rapid as a bird's wing.
Catherine's body instantly trembled slightly, a shiver that had nothing to do with the cool night air.
She didn't shy away.
She simply looked up, gazing at him silently with her clear and deep eyes, like autumn lake water that held all the colors of the sky.
Time seemed to stop at this moment, the city falling away until there was only the two of them in the circle of lamplight.
Felix met Catherine's beautiful blue eyes and slowly lowered his head, giving her every opportunity to turn away, to retreat.
She didn't.
He kissed her lips.
At first, it was just a soft, tentative touch, a question asked in the gentlest possible way.
Then, feeling her raw and fervent response, her hand coming up to clutch his jacket, her mouth opening under his, the kiss became incredibly deep and lingering, a conversation they'd been having in silence for months finally finding its voice.
So much was contained in this kiss.
There was admiration for her brilliance and courage, gratitude for her loyalty and trust, trust that she would guard not just his secrets but his heart, tenderness for the wounds they'd both carried, and even more, the solace of two lonely souls finally finding each other on a cold foreign night, recognizing in each other a mirror and a home.
After a long while, the two slowly separated, breathless.
"Catherine…"
"Don't speak."
Catherine gently pressed a finger to his lips, feeling them warm and slightly swollen from their kiss.
She looked at him, her eyes devoid of the usual awe a subordinate held for a superior, the careful distance she maintained in the office.
There was only the purest emotion of a woman for a man, desire, yes, but also something deeper, more enduring.
She said nothing more.
She simply took out her key with trembling fingers and opened the apartment door behind her, leading to her small world, her private sanctuary that no one from the company had ever seen.
Then, she turned and looked at him again, standing in the doorway with the warm light of her apartment behind her.
Felix saw the clear yet shy invitation in her eyes, the hope and the fear mingled together.
He smiled, a rare, unguarded smile that transformed his face.
He stepped forward, took Catherine's soft hand in his, her palm cool and smooth, her fingers ink-stained, and followed her through the door into the warmth beyond.
The door gently closed behind them with a soft click that seemed to echo in the quiet street.
The man and woman inside the room began their passionate exploration, a dance as old as time and as new as their own discovery of each other. They moved through her small apartment, from the doorway where he pressed her against the frame, to the worn sofa where she pulled him down, to the kitchen table where he lifted her, to the bedroom door where she led him by the hand, shedding inhibitions and barriers with each touch, each whispered word.
"My God," Catherine breathed against his neck, overwhelmed by sensation, by the newness and rightness of it all. "So frightening, don't rush… Oh my God…"
The fervent hearts of the young man and woman beat as one, scattered throughout the small rooms, leaving traces of their passion in rumpled fabric and scattered hairpins, in gasping breaths and murmured names.
The door seemed to seal off the entire world outside, creating a universe of two.
The few guards outside exchanged knowing glances, settling in for a long wait. Everyone in the company had seen it coming, had noticed the lingering looks, the way their employer softened when she entered the room.
But they hadn't expected it to develop so quickly, though perhaps they should have, there had been an inevitability about it, like watching storm clouds gather.
"It seems we'll be feeding mosquitoes tonight…" one muttered, pulling his coat closer against the autumn chill.
---
The next day, when Catherine, having tasted the forbidden fruit and discovered it was sweeter than any Eden could offer, reappeared in the office, she was still the capable and steady general assistant and administrative director.
It was just that her usually impeccably neat bun and footsteps seemed, today, a tiny bit disheveled. There was a slight unevenness to her gait that spoke of muscles unused to such exertion, and a flush to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the weather.
Her high collar did not quite hide a mark on her neck, dark as a brand.
As for Felix, he only leisurely emerged from his private lounge after she had entered the office and settled at her desk, allowing her that small grace of arrival without his immediate presence.
A refreshed smile played at the corners of his mouth, and there was a relaxation in his shoulders that his associates hadn't seen in months.
Just then, Jones burst in excitedly, waving an urgent letter from the military department in his hand, oblivious to the charged atmosphere in the room.
"Felix! You won't believe what's just arrived, "
Jones practically burst through the door of Felix's office.
The letter in his hand, bearing the army's wax seal, was crumpled and distorted.
His breathing was ragged from running all the way.
"Boss."
Jones's voice was hoarse with excitement.
"Lieutenant Carter's… no, Captain Carter's letter; he's been promoted."
Catherine, who was checking the accounts, and Miller, who was wiping his weapon, both looked up.
Felix looked up from a pile of factory design sketches on his desk and gestured for Jones to read the letter's contents aloud.
Jones cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice.
"To Argyle & Co. Foods, Mr. Felix Argyle. The military canned goods provided by your company have been distributed on the front lines and have been exceptionally well-received. The morale of the soldiers has been greatly boosted, and General Reed is very satisfied with this."
He paused and swallowed.
"After urgent consultation between the Department of the Army and the Senate Military Committee, it has been decided to sign a six-month long-term supply contract with your company. The total contract amount is five hundred thousand dollars."
Five hundred thousand dollars.
This figure shocked everyone in the office.
Jones's hands were trembling, and even Miller's perpetually poker face showed an expression of shock.
Jones continued to read.
"The letter also states that, in addition to canned beef, the military's logistics department faces an even more severe problem. Frontline soldiers are experiencing a rising incidence of scurvy due to a long-term lack of fresh fruits and vegetables. They want to know if our company has the capability to research and produce canned fruit that can be preserved for a long time."
The letter was finished.
Jones muttered to himself.
"Five hundred thousand dollars… Boss, are you going to become the wealthiest person in New York?"
Felix glanced at him. What a scoundrel.
"Damn it, Jones, can't you read the newspaper more often? The richest man is Cornelius Vanderbilt; he has assets of hundreds of millions of dollars."
"Compared to him, what are my few hundred thousand dollars in assets, your Boss?"
Exhaling a turbid breath, Felix's gaze fell on Catherine.
"Catherine."
"Yes, Boss." Catherine's voice was a little tight.
"For a five hundred thousand dollar contract, how many cans do we need to deliver according to our agreed price with the military?"
Catherine quickly calculated and immediately replied.
"Boss, approximately eight hundred thirty thousand cans."
"Eight hundred thirty thousand cans, over a six-month contract period."
Felix repeated, then continued to ask.
"So, what daily production do we need to achieve to complete the task?"
"We need to produce at least four thousand six hundred cans per day, and that doesn't even include the civilian orders we supply to Mr. Tilford and other shops in New York."
Felix nodded in understanding, then stood up and walked to the blackboard.
"Jones, the factory is currently running two shifts, twenty-four hours a day, non-stop. What is the maximum production capacity?"
"Reporting, Boss. Three thousand two hundred cans."
"Three thousand two hundred."
Felix wrote this number on the blackboard. Then, next to it, he wrote the target of "five thousand."
There was a huge gap between the two.
Felix turned around and looked at his core team.
"Hey, listen… folks, I have to say, over the past year, everyone has done a great job, and the company has gained some reputation throughout the Federation, but the current situation is clear: it still can't feed the army's newly opened maw."
"So, I've decided…"
"Starting today, I'm going to build a Argyle factory even larger than the current one."
Then he began to issue a series of orders.
"Catherine."
"I'm here, Boss."
"Immediately contact the owners of the two plots of land next to us, the abandoned timber mill and the burned-down old warehouse. Tell them I want to buy their land, and complete the transaction as soon as possible!"
Catherine looked at Felix cautiously and reminded him, "Boss, those two plots of land combined are more than three times larger than our current factory, and the price…"
"Of course, I want land that big. As for the price, the war has started now, and although New York's housing prices haven't plummeted, I estimate it will be around ten thousand dollars at most."
Felix continued to discuss his ideas and plans.
"At the same time, contact all the newspapers in New York to publish the largest recruitment advertisement. I need two hundred strong workers. Daily wage of 1 dollar, with work meals provided."
Although this salary was twenty cents lower than that of the factory's skilled workers, it was still twice that of dockworkers.
Not to mention Argyle & Co. Foods also offered work meals, which most workers in New York envied.
They would definitely rush to apply.
"Jones, your task is to work with Smith the Blacksmith to re-optimize and design a large workshop with four independent production lines based on the current factory facilities within half a month. I want a food factory that can accommodate more than three hundred people working simultaneously, understand?"
Jones's expression became serious, and he immediately straightened up and said loudly, "Task guaranteed to be completed!"
"And Miller, your security team also needs to be expanded. I need a fifty-person, round-the-clock armed security team. Our new factory will be a core supplier to the military, and its security level will be equivalent to a military warehouse."
"Yes!"
After the meeting, Catherine remained alone in Felix's office.
She looked at Felix, her deep blue eyes radiating admiration and affection.
"Boss…"
"Hey… sweetheart, there's no one else here, call me Felix, and let's talk about the company's finances."
Felix interrupted her, walked to her side, and gently stroked her dark hair.
Catherine's pretty face flushed slightly, but she still obeyed Felix.
"Alright… Felix, the company currently has thirty thousand dollars in its account. After deducting land acquisition, factory construction, new equipment, and labor, there will probably only be a little over ten thousand dollars left."
"This amount might not be enough, as we'll still need tin cans and research for canned fruit later."
Catherine sounded a little worried as she said this.
"But I have no choice, Catherine. War is an accelerator. It will propel all those who dare to take risks to heaven. It will also crush all those who hesitate into hell."
His hand gently rested on her shoulder, a gesture full of trust and support.
"Besides, there's no need to worry too much. I will discuss an advance payment with the military, so our funds are not tight."
"Also, once the new factory is completed, we should be able to complete the military order ahead of schedule, so I will establish a sales department in the company to promote our canned goods throughout America."
Felix's voice was gentle as he caressed Catherine's delicate face.
"Catherine, my sweetheart, I need you."
"The factory's expansion, the recruitment of workers, the company's finances. I need you to help me handle these matters."
Catherine looked at Felix, at his deep, always confident eyes.
She nodded, "I will, Felix, I will always be by your side to help you."
Her reply was soft but firm.
"I won't let you down."