It was a dream. It had to be. This bullpen was more beautiful than Jocelyn could have imagined. No wonder the security guards stared her down when she flashed Hetty's summons. Any LAPD officers who caught a glimpse of this place would never want to leave.

"I know, right?" A familiar voice whispered over her shoulder.

In her awe, she hadn't noticed Deeks approach. "It's amazing," she breathed.

"Just wait 'til you see OPS."

The detectives mounted the stairs, Deeks leading the way. Twin doors slid open to reveal the dimly lit room. Once again, Jocelyn found herself speechless. The far wall was obviously a huge computer display, littered with photos and reports that, at the moment, meant nothing to her. A row of computers lined the wall to her right, with two to her left. A large square display table filled the center of the room, around which stood Eric, Nell, Sam, Kensi, and Callen.

The latter glared suspiciously at her drawing her to speak.

"What am I doing here?"

"You are here because of a unique asset only you can provide."

Jocelyn wracked her brain for what that talent could possibly be.

"Your familial connections," Hetty answered in reply to the detective's bewildered face.

Embarrassment mixed with defiance. From her days at the academy, her past was a well-kept secret. Only the most crucial people knew of her wealthy connections, society upbringing, and teen years scattered across the tabloids. She was already enough of an oddball in the precinct; she didn't need more teasing regarding her privileged life. Every iota of respect she'd worked for would be shattered.

Jocelyn's chin rose, a defiant mannerism to distract from the turmoil within. "What does my family have to do with this?"

"Are you familiar with Consul Kirsonov?" Hetty gestured at the screen.

"Not personally."

"Mr. Beale, if you please," Hetty relinquished the floor to the tech wizard. "And start at the beginning for Mr. Deeks's sake."

Eric stepped forward, swiping his tablet to manipulate the visuals. "Two days ago, your team-" he nodded to Jocelyn "-discovered the homicide of a Navy Ensign on the Coronado beach."

Crime scene photos scattered across the screen. Jocelyn cringed inwardly; it was not a sight she wished to revisit.

"The body was identified as Ensign John Porter of the USS MOBILE BAY, a man accused of the alleged rape of the consul's daughter."

The Ensign's ship photo was pushed to the side of the screen; the crime scene images removed.

"How does this apply to me?" She glanced around the room as she spoke, once again unnerved by Callen's unrelenting glare. "You removed me from the case."

"Earlier today," Hetty spoke again, "Ms. Blye and Mr. Hanna went to the embassy for a visit with Ms. Kirsonov's father. They were met with hostility and barred from speaking to Alina. However, Mr. Hanna managed to get a shot of the Consul's schedule which includes the annual Hart Foundation Gala."

Jocelyn's face paled involuntarily. "And you want me to go to the gala to interrogate Alina?"

"Simply put, yes."

"I haven't been back home in years!" Jocelyn's excuse was weak, but she had to try.

Hetty nodded knowingly. "Yes, but you won't be going alone. If you had something to offer your father, he might welcome you with open arms."

"Like what?"

"Like a fiance-one who can make it appear like you're reentering society."

Jocelyn stifled a laugh, even Deeks raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"And who would take on that role?"

"Why, Mr. Callen, of course. Or Gabriel Kent, as the case may be."

The detective glance shot to the aforementioned agent. This bombshell was news to him; his jaw went slack in shock.

"Why can't Sam do it?" he protested.

"Mr. Hanna is already known to the Kirsonovs as an NCIS agent. They've never met you before."

"What about Deeks?"

Deeks put his hands up. "I have no desire to play fiancé to my wife's best friend."

Jocelyn looked to him accusingly.

"No offense."

Jocelyn smiled. "I don't think my father would take kindly to me marrying a homeless surfer puppy dog."

Deeks's jaw dropped in mock insult.

"No offense."

"Mr. Callen is the perfect candidate. Despite their differences, they share an innate chemistry that is necessary to convince her father the match is real."

Hetty's tone brooked no further argument. The match was decided. The woman gently herded Jocelyn to Callen's side and joined their hands. The familiar sensation streaked up her arm. Similarly affected, the agent dropped her hand as if burned. His ice blue eyes widened as they met hers, echoing the suppressed emotions boiling beneath the surface: attraction, revulsion, lust, and trepidation. But just as quickly as they registered, his eyes eyes slid away in cool detachment.

The silent exchange didn't go unnoticed by the hyper-observant occupants of the room.

"I trust you will be able to work together," Hetty asked, the edge in her tone daring them to disagree.

Jocelyn swallowed but nodded, Callen mimicking her.

"Good. I request that you contact your father this evening to secure two tickets to the gala. Once that is sorted, you can leave. Report back here at 0930 sharp."

With that, she exited the room.

Kensi, Nell, Eric, and Sam shuffled from one foot to the other uncomfortably, afraid to meet Jocelyn or Callen's gaze. The tense current hung in the air until Deeks cleared his throat.

"Best wishes to the happy couple," he exclaimed, opening himself up to both Jocelyn and Callen's icy glares.

The spell broken, Callen bolted from the room without a second look. Sam offered Jocelyn a small smile before rushing after his partner.

"G!" the call came beyond the door, the rest of the conversation out of earshot.

Jocelyn must have been biting her lip, because Deeks squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. "Don't worry about him. He'll play his part when the time comes."

Even Kensi smiled encouragingly. "He's right. If there's one thing Callen can do, it's this." She gestured widely, indicating the whole of NCIS.

"Thanks," Jocelyn sighed, pulling out her cell phone and stepping into the hall.

Callen was fuming. Engaged? To that lying...beautiful…bitch? He unclenched and clenched his fists as he descended the staircase. The urge to stomp was overwhelming, but he still had some pride.

Hetty's lair was located next to the stairs. Like any ruler, it was decorated with an antique throne, Persian rug, and, of course, a large collection of rare teas and teapots. Though she didn't have a door, it was always open in the proverbial sense. Of course, "knocking" required a lot of courage. Of all the team members, Callen had the most access.

He stood before her, but before he could open his mouth, she cut him off.

"Problem, Mr. Callen?" she looked up from above her cup of tea.

"Are you sure Hart is our only way in?" he asked, less confident than he appeared.

"Do you have any ideas?"

"We could get just me or Deeks on the list." The plan was thin, and he knew it.

She quirked an elegant eyebrow in his direction. "Come now, Mr. Callen, you can do better than that."

"She's untested and untrained—hardly the sort for this kind of mission."

"She's a decorated officer, and the most qualified to infiltrate high society of any of us."

A sigh escaped his lips; his hands fell to his side in defeat. "Does it have to be her?"

"Is engagement to Ms. Hart really that terrible?"

Callen pursed his lips, shifting uncomfortably. "You know my aversions to commitment—even if it isn't real."

"But for the sake of the mission…" she trailed off.

"I am willing to sacrifice," he finished the thought, nodding in submission.

"And you can be professional?"

"I will be if she is," the surly agent replied

She set her teacup in the saucer with a final clink. "Well then, that's settled."

He stepped back.

"Mr. Callen," Hetty called after him.

Callen's eyes shot up in annoyance. "Yes?"

"Don't forget your ring."

The agent took the proffered box and stuffed it into his pocket without a second look.

"Mr. Callen?"

"Yes?"

"That's a vintage Harry Winston. Don't lose it."

"You'll have to talk to Hart about that."

The moment Callen was out of earshot, Sam showed his face. "I see what you did there."

Hetty glanced up at the dark agent. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Come on," he cajoled. "We both know the 'engagement' is unnecessary."

"Possibly," she admitted, "but it is the most credible entrance for Mr. Callen."

"I'll pretend to believe that."

If she was going to make this call, Jocelyn needed to be alone. The once massive center now felt stifling and claustrophobic. She needed air, but the windows were all sealed and leaving meant heading through security's probing stares. It had been a long time since she'd felt so much like a child, so insecure, so…inadequate.

A large window cast a thick slice of light through the shadowy hallway, drawing her to its warmth. It was cut into wall; she curled her knees to her chest in the seat it created. In truth, it had been eight years since she'd cut ties with her father without a word, and now she had to conjure a way into her father's annual gala the day before the event. She gazed out the window, wishing for a view, but all she saw was the concrete walls surrounding the compound.

There was no security the number hadn't changed, but Jocelyn dialed it all the same. It rang three times, her heart skipping a beat at every tone.

Hello?"

Jocelyn's reply caught in her throat.

"Hello?" he repeated.

"Father?"

"Lynnie?" Shock colored his voice. The nickname cut straight to her heart, sending her back to her pampered childhood full of kisses and love. He always called her after Irish middle name. "Lynnie, is that you?"

"Hi, Father," she breathed.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured. "That's not why I'm calling."

"Then why are you calling? Because, frankly, it's been a while."

"I know Evan's been filling you in on everything. You feed on information."

"Maybe," came the gruff reply.

"So how much do you know?"

"You were just promoted to detective. You live in San Diego. Your doorman's name is Emmett."

Jocelyn smiled. It was no secret her father kept tabs on her. She and Evan had decided which information could be passed on and what should be kept between siblings. "Right on all counts."

"So why are you calling?"

"Because I have some new information I figured you needed to know firsthand."

"Oh?"

"I'm engaged!" Jocelyn injected as much joy as she could into the announcement.

"To who?"

"His name is Gabriel Kent."

"What else? Where does he work? Where was he born?"

These were not questions Jocelyn was ready to answer. "I'm sure he'll be happy to take part in whatever interrogation you have planned for him," she teased.

"Do you love him?"

Jocelyn leaned forward, catching a glimpse of Callen relaxing at his desk. Despite the stress of the day, he was smiling at Sam. Warmth spread through her at sight of his open grin, crooked and full of mischief. "Yes."

"So when do I get to meet him?"

Glancing skyward in thankfulness, Jocelyn sighed. "Actually, I was wondering if I could bring him to tomorrow's gala."

Her father hesitated; Jocelyn chewed her lip in worry. "Fine," he replied finally. "But I insist you two spend the night. I want the chance to get to know your fiancé—and you."

The implications of her father's words were not lost on her. Jocelyn knew she wouldn't be able to escape scot-free. They would argue, but she couldn't run away this time. Not while the case depended on her keeping Callen free of suspicion. Maybe a fiancé was just the offering she needed to repair her relationship with her father.

"I look forward to it!" she exclaimed with false cheerfulness.

I'll have Anna set up a room for you. Of course, you'll have to come here to get ready. Then you and Gabriel can stay the night. We can get to know each other the following day."

"Sounds good! I'll see you tomorrow."

"Lynnie—" his voice was tinted with warning. "—we will need to talk."

"Yes, Father."

Jocelyn hung up with a sigh.

"And then the shark bit off my left arm," Sam continued, bemused grin on his face.

"Mmhmm," Callen nodded absentmindedly. His gaze was fixed on the tiny form sitting in the window. Usually so straight and confident, it was unnerving to see Jocelyn so timid. She was curled into herself, chewing on her lip as she often did when concerned. He'd only been in her presence a few days, but he was acutely attuned to her mannerisms. A necessary skill, he told himself; if he was to be engaged to her, he should know those things.

Emerald eyes flickered to his; her pale cheeks flushed with awareness of his stare. Jocelyn grinned weakly and flashed a thumbs up. They were in. Her chest collapsed with a sigh and she turned to gaze out the window once more.

"G! G, are you even listening to me?" Sam's annoyed voice cut through Callen's thoughts.

He blinked at his partner. "Sorry, what?"

Where you at?"

"I'm here. I'm fine." He mustered up an unconvincing grin.

Sam nodded to Jocelyn's window. "She really got to you, didn't she?"

Callen opened his mouth to object but thought better of it. He exhaled loudly. "Yeah."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Absolutely nothing."

The night was dark before Jocelyn made it out of the compound. There were countless details to work out. She was thoroughly exhausted by the end.

"Hart?" he asked as she walked past him.

"Yes?" Maybe, just maybe he would smile at her. Just once.

But no, his eyes avoided hers. "See you tomorrow."

They exchanged an awkward glance and parted ways.

She didn't relax until enveloped in the safety of her car. She pounded the steering wheel in frustration. There had to be someone she could talk to—anyone.

Kayla! She was back from her honeymoon now.

"Ohmigosh!" Kayla answered the phone, excitement boiling over. "It's you!"

"It's you!" Jocelyn shouted back, her friend's spirit lifting her own. "How was your honeymoon?"

"Fantastic, but we can save that for another time. Marty just informed me of your happy announcement." Jocelyn could picture the sly smile on Kayla's face. Nothing got past this girl.

"Shut up."

"Seriously! You're fake engaged to the infamous G. Callen!"

On any other day, Jocelyn would be the one gushing. "That's what I need to talk to you about."

"Damn right it's what you need to talk about!"

Kayla!" Jocelyn exclaimed a little too sharply. "I'm fake engaged to a man who can't stand the sight of me and now we have to pass it off to my father as true love."

"Wait—Callen hates you?"

"It's a long story."

Kayla gasped. "You didn't."

"Didn't what?" Jocelyn replied as innocently as she could.

"Did you?" Kayla accused.

"What?"

"Did you sleep with Callen at the wedding?"

"No…" Jocelyn trailed off, wondering if she could let the half-truth stand. "We might have shared a kiss…"

"Jocelyn Hart! I specifically told you to lay off any of Marty's coworkers!"

"Does it help if I say he kissed me first?" She resisted the laughter bubbling inside her; Kayla was entertaining when upset. "Besides, I was the one who walked away."

"I still don't understand why he hates you. Usually, men…like you, especially those you've kissed."

"Yeah, well this guy wasn't too pleased to find out I was a cop. Apparently he has a rule against dating—or sleeping with—cops."

"So he hates you?"

"Seriously, when are you going to get that point?"

"I think he might like you."

Jocelyn laughed. "I think the Italian sun went to your head. Besides, people only act like that in kindergarten."

"So what is this about a gala?" Kayla changed the subject. "It seems rather…fancy…even for you."

Jocelyn shifted in her seat. Not even Kayla knew about her family. "Yeah…my father might just be Ethan Hart."

"Wait—how do I know that name?"

"Because he's attached to every 'it' charity there is."

Oh, that Ethan Hart!" she replied in recognition. There was a pregnant pause. "Why did you never tell me?"

"I'm not particularly open about my past."

"I just thought we were close." The betrayal in Kayla's tone stung. "I mean, you know everything about me."

There's the sensitive Kayla I know and love, Jocelyn thought, despite the knowledge she was in for it.

"I was just so focused on helping you that it rarely came up."

"Don't you blame me," Kayla threatened in her most maternal home. "I feel like I barely know you."

Jocelyn punched the steering wheel. "And I promise I will tell you everything after I fake my engagement and lie to my father."

"We both know you're good at lying."

Ouch. "Honey, I just need some advice, then we'll have a nice, long talk over a much-needed drink."

Kayla exhaled into the phone. "Fine."

"I've wracked my brain looking for some way to get through to Callen, but he still won't even look at me. I need to talk to him before jumping in headfirst."

Well," Kayla hesitated, still deciding whether or not to help her friend, "My mother always said that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"I'm not about to knife him, sweetie."

"It doesn't mean cutting him, it means feeding him."

"You know I can't cook."

"Then get creative!" Kayla ordered. "You'll think of something."

"Ugh," Jocelyn groaned. "Fine."