Loving You, Always

Chapter 10. When will you realize that I love you so much?

James tapped his finger impatiently on his thigh, which laid over one another, hoping the BOD meeting would finish soon. His eyes darted at Mr. Dalton, one of Hardin Corp's director who always cornered him in this meeting. Mr. Dalton always hated him since he joined the company and always opposed his policies or ideas.

"My opinion, Mr. Hardin-" Mr. Dalton stood, looking at the old, blonde man, "James is playing safe for this problem. I think we just report this to the police and BANG!-," he made a shooting gesture, pointing at James, "-mission accomplished."

James felt wanting to puke seeing his disgusting smirked. If only his father didn't there, he had made him grilled meat.

James chuckled loudly, making all eyes on him.

"I agree with your idea, Mr. Dalton. But you are not aware that we are entering the presidential election period, BANG-," James smacked the table loudly, making others' butt jumped from their seat, "-Every single wrong move will be a trigger to the candidates becoming a savior. In addition, the residents who are on strike on us got help from international NGOs. So, we must be careful."

Everyone in the room nodded, like in one command, they then paid the attention to Mr. Hardin's senior. Mr. Robert Hardin followed suit as an agreement.

"Ok. I think you right. I'll let this problem to you, James," he stated. "However, you should consult with us."

"Thanks for your trust, Mr. Hardin." James nodded, delivering a winning glance to Mr. Dalton. The latter only gave a sour smile as the response.

"Ok. We can wrap up this meeting." Mr. Robert Hardin closed, "James, don't leave, I want to talk to you."

After everybody left, Mr. Robert Hardin walked closer to his only son. His hands shoved in the pockets. Previously, he acted as the owner and also the superior, but now he acted as the father.

Mr. Robert Hardin rubbed his son's shoulder, pretending to dust James's suite while smearing his brown eyes onto his son's sturdy posture as if adoring the artwork. When they were alongside like this, we could conclude from whom James inherited his dark hair and eyes.

"I am really proud of you, my son," he said in a gentle voice. "If only your grandfathers could see you, they might agree with me."

Mentioning about his grandfathers, James occurred to remember about them, especially Ojiisan, from his mother's side. Ojiisan was the person who taught him how to fight empty-handed and how to use Katana; a Japanese sword. The ten-years-old James would always cry because of his strictness and discipline when they were practicing. But on the other hand, Ojiisan always taught him patiently. He would give him a prize when he achieved his tasks or when he had successfully learned a new step. The first prize was his old katana made by the legend Muramasa Sengo. James also only could talk to him about his personal problem, especially when their parents decided to divorce. He would spend the days with him at his dojo for practicing, and for forgetting the family who abandoned him to grow with a nanny and bodyguards.

Unfortunately, that wasn't last longer. When he was fifteen, Ojiisan passed away. Losing his only friend was the saddest experience he ever had. He remembered when they took his grandfather's coffin away to be buried in Japan, he howled, crying while pursuing the car that fetched him until his feet sore and hurt. No one who guided him, making him became a wild and a scoundrel. If only not because of his family name, he would be expelled from his school several times.

James smiled, he stared at his father, "Thank you, Mr. Hardin. But I want something for my prize."

"What is it?"